LUGGAGE 
BOY 


n 


BY 
HORATIO  ALGERJfc 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OP 
CALIFORNIA 


BEN,  THE  LUGGAGE  BOY; 


OK, 


AMONG  THE  WHAKVES. 


BY 

HORATIO   ALGER,  JR., 

A.UTHOR  OF  "  RAGGED  DICK,"  "  FAME  AND  FORTUNE,"  "  MARK,  THE  MATCH 

BOY,"   "  ROUGH  AND  READY,"    "  CAMPAIGN  SERIES," 

"LUCK  AND  PLUCK  SERIES,"  ETC. 


THE  JOHN  C.  WINSTON  CO., 

PHILADELPHIA, 
CHICAGO,  TORONTO. 


IOAN  STACK 

FAMOUS  ALGER  BOOKS. 


RAGGED  DICK  SERIES.  By  HORATIO  ALGER,  JE.  6  vols.  12mo.  Cloth. 
RAGGED  DICK.  ROUGH  AND  READY. 

FAME  AND  FORTUNE.  BEN  THE  LUGGAGE  BOY. 

MARK  THE  MATCH  BOY.  RUFUS  AND  ROSE. 

TATTERED  TOM  SERIES.  By  HORATIO  ALGER,  JR.    4  vols.    12mo. 

Cloth.    FIRST  SERIES. 

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JULIUS.  SAM'S  CHANCE. 

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CAMPAIGN  SERIES.    By  HORATIO  ALGER,  JR.    3  vols. 

FRANK'S  CAMPAIGN.  CHARLIE  CODMAN'S  CRUISE. 

PAUL  PRESCOTT'S  CHARGE. 

LUCK  AND  PLUCK  SERIES.  By  HORATIO  ALGER,  JR.  4  vols.  12mo. 

Cloth.    FIRST  SERIES. 

LUCK  AND  PLUCK.  STRONG  AND  STEADY. 

SINK  OR  SWIM.  STRIVE  AND  SUCCEED. 

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Cloth. 

BRAVE  AND  BOLD.  SHIFTING  FOR  HIMSELF. 

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THE  YOUNG  ADVENTURER.  THE  YOUNG  EXPLORERS. 

THE  YOUNG  MINER.  BEN'S  NUGGET. 

ATLANTIC  SERIES.     By  HORATIO  ALGER,  JR.    4  vols. 

THE  YOUNG  CIRCUS  RIDER.  HECTOR'S  INHERITANCE. 

Do  AND  DARE.  HELPING  HIMSELF. 

WAY  TO  SUCCESS  SERIES.  By  HORATIO  ALGER,  JR.   4  vols.  12mo. 

Cloth. 

BOB  BURTON.  LUKE  WALTON. 

THE  STORE  BOY.  STRUGGLING  UPWARD. 

NEW  WORLD  SERIES.   By  HORATIO  ALGER,  JR.  3  vols.  12mo.  Cloth. 
DIGGING  FOR  GOLD.      FACING  THE  WORLD.       IN  A  NEW  WORLD. 

Other  Volumes  in  Preparation. 


COPYRIGHT  BY  A.  K.  LORING,  1870. 


COPYRIGHT  BY  HORATIO  ALGER,  JR., 


77-1 


A.1T3STID, 


VOLUME     18     DBDIOATV9 


Ctnfcer 


237 


PBEFACE. 


I*  piesenting  "Ben,  the  Luggage  Boy," to  the  public,  M 
the  fifth  of  the  Ragged  Dick  Series,  the  author  desires  to 
gay  tnat  it  is  in  all  essential  points  a  true  history;  the 
particulars  of  the  story  having  been  communicated  to  him, 
by  Ben  himself,  nearly  two  years  since.  In  particular, 
the  circumstances  attending  the  boy's  running  away  from 
home,  and  adopting  the  life  of  a  street  boy,  are  in  strict 
accordance  with  Ben's  own  statement.  While  some  of 
the  street  incidents  are  borrowed  from  the  writer's  own 
observation,  those  who  are  really  familiar  with  the  dif- 
ferent phases  which  street  life  assumes  in  New  York,  will 
readily  recognize  their  fidelity.  The  chapter  entitled 
"  The  Room  under  the  Wharf  "  will  recall  to  many  readers 
of  the  daily  journals  a  paragraph  which  made  its  appear- 
ance within  two  years.  The  writer  cannot  close  without 
expressing  anew  his  thanks  for  the  large  share  of  favoi 


Tin  PREFACE. 

which  has  been  accorded  to  the  volumes  of  the  present 
series,  and  takes  this  opportunity  of  saying  that,  in  their 
preparation,  invention  has  piayed  but  a  subordinate  part 
For  his  delineations  of  character  and  choice  of  incidents, 
be  has  been  mainly  indebted  to  his  own  observation, 
aided  by  valuable  communications  and  suggestions  from 
those  who  have  been  brought  into  familiar  acquaintance 
with  the  class  whose  mode  of  life  he  ha*  soo&ht  to 
describe. 

Vow  YORK,  April  ft.  MS* 


BEN,  THE  LUGGAGE  BOY ; 

AMONG  THE  WHARVES. 

CHAPTER  I. 

INTRODUCES   BEN,   THE   LUGGAGE   BOT. 

•*  How  much  yer  made  this  mornin',  Ben?" 

"  Nary  red,"  answered  Ben,  composedly. 

"Had  yer  breakfast?" 

"  Only  an  apple.  That's  all  I've  eaten  since  yeste* 
day.  It's  most  time  for  the  train  to  be  in  from  Phila 
delphy.  I'm  layin*  round  for  a  job." 

The  first  speaker  was  a  short,  freckled-faced  boy, 
whose  box  strapped  to  his  back  identified  him  at  once 
as  a  street  boot-black.  His  hair  was  red,  his  fingers 
defaced  by  stains  of  blacking,  and  his  clothing  con- 
structed on  the  most  approved  system  of  ventilation. 
He  appeared  to  be  about  twelve  years  old. 


HO  BEN,    THE   LUGGAGE   BOY;    OJS, 

The  boy  whom  he  addressed  as  Ben  was  taller,  and 
looked  older.  He  was  probably  not  far  from  sixteen. 
His  face  and  hands,  though  browned  by  exposure  to 
wind  and  weather,  were  several  shades  cleaner  than 
those  of  his  companion.  His  face,  too,  was  of  a  less 
common  type.  It  was  easy  to  see  that,  if  he  had 
been  well  dressed,  he  might  readily  have  been  taken 
for  a  gentleman's  son.  But  in  his  present  attire  there 
was  little  chance  of  this  mistake  being  made.  His 
pants,  marked  by  a  green  stripe,  small  around  the 
waist  and  very  broad  at  the  hips,  had  evident^  once 
belonged  to  a  Bowery  swell ;  for  the  Bowery  has  its 
swells  as  well  as  Broadway,  its  more  aristocratic 
neighbor.  The  vest  had  been  discarded  as  a  need- 
less luxury,  its  place  being  partially  supplied  by  a 
shirt  of  thick  red  flannel.  This  was  covered  by  a 
frock-coat,  which  might  once  have  belonged  to  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Fat  Men's  Association,  being  aldermanic 
in  its  proportions.  Now  it  was  fallen  from  its  high 
estate,  its  nap  and  original  gloss  had  long  departed  r 
and  it  was  *rayed  and  torn  in  many  places.  But 
among  the  street-boys  dress  is  not  much  regarded,  and 
Ben  never  thought  of  apologizing  for  the  defects  of 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES, 

ills  wardrobe.  We  shall  learn  in  time  what  were  hi8 
faults  and  what  his  virtues,  for  I  can  assure  my 
readers  that  street  boys  do  have  virtues  sometimes, 
and  when  they  are  thoroughly  convinced  that  a  ques- 
tioner feels  an  interest  in  them  will  drop  the  "  chaff" 
in  which  they  commonly  indulge,  and  talk  seriously 
and  feelingly  of  their  faults  and  hardships.  Some 
do  this  for  a  purpose,  no  doubt,  and  the  verdant  stran- 
ger is  liable  to  be  taken  in  by  assumed  virtue,  and 
waste  sympathy  on  those  who  do  not  deserve  it.  But 
there  are  also  many  boys  who  have  good  tendencies 
and  aspirations,  and  only  need  to  be  encouraged  and 
placed  under  right  influences  to  develop  into  worthy 
and  respectable  men. 

The  conversation  recorded  above  took  place  at  the 
foot  of  Contlandt  Street,  opposite  the  ferry  wharf.  It 
was  nearly  time  for  the  train,  and  there  was  the  usual 
scene  of  confusion.  Express  wagons,  hacks,  boys, 
laborers,  were  gathering,  presenting  a  confusing  med- 
ley to  the  eye  of  one  unaccustomed  to  the  spectacle. 

Ben  was  a  luggage  boy,  his  occupation  being  to 
wait  at  the  piers  for  the  arrival  of  steamboats,  o^  at 
the  railway  stations,  on  the  chance  of  getting  a  carpeV 


12  BEN,    THE   LUGGAGE   EOT;    0JS, 

bag  01  valise  to  carry.  His  business  was  a  prec* 
rious  one.  Sometimes  he  was  lucky,  sometimes  un- 
lucky. When  he  was  flush,  he  treated  himself  to  a 
"  square  meal,"  and  finished  up  the  day  at  Tony  Pas- 
tor's, or  the  Old  Bowery,  where  from  his  seat  in  the 
pit  he  indulged  in  independent  criticism  of  the  acting, 
as  he  leaned  back  in  his  seat  and  munched  peanuts, 
throwing  the  shells  about  carelessly. 

It  is  not  surprising  that  the  street-boys  like  the 
Old  Bowery,  and  are  willing  to  stint  their  stomachs, 
or  run  the  risk  of  a  night  in  the  streets,  for  the  sake 
of  the  warm  room  and  the  glittering  illusions  of  the 
stage,  introducing  them  for  the  time  being  to  the  soci- 
ety of  nobles  and  ladies  of  high  birth,  and  enabling 
them  to  forget  for  a  time  the  hardships  of  their  own 
lot,  while  they  follow  with  rapt  interest  the  fortunes 
of  Lord  Frederic  Montressor  or  the  Lady  Imogene 
Delacour.  Strange  as  it  may  seem,  the  street  Arab 
nas  a  decided  fancy  for  these  pictures  of  aristocracy, 
»*iu  never  suspects  their  want  of  fidelity.  When  the 
play  ends,  and  Lord  Frederic  comes  to  his  own,  hav- 
ing foiled  all  the  schemes  of  his  crafty  and  unprinci- 
pled enemies,  no  one  rejoices  more  than  the  ragged 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  13 

boy  who  has  sat  through  the  evening  an  interested 
spectator  of  the  play,  and  in  his  pleasure  at  the  suc- 
cessful denouement,  he  almost  forgets  that  he  will 
probably  find  the  Newsboys'  Lodging  House  closed 
for  the  night,  and  be  compelled  to  take  up  with  such 
sleeping  accommodations  as  the  street  may  provide. 

Ben  crossed  the  street,  taking  a  straight  coarse, 
without  paying  especial  attention  to  the  mud,  which 
caused  other  pedestrians  to  pick  their  way.  To  the 
condition  of  his  shoes  he  was  supremely  indifferent. 
Stockings  he  did  not  wear.  They  are  luxuries  in 
which  few  street  boys  indulge. 

He  had  not  long  to  wait.  The  boat  bumped  against 
the  wharf,  and  directly  a  crowd  of  passengers  poured 
through  the  open  gates  in  a  continuous  stream. 

Ben  looked  sharply  around  him  to  judge  who  would 
be  likely  to  employ  him.  His  attention  was  drawn 
to  an  elderly  lady,  with  a  large  carpet-bag  swelled 
almost  to  bursting.  She  was  looking  about  her  in  a 
bewildered  manner. 

44  Carry  your  bag,  ma'am  ?  "  he  said,  at  the  same 
time  motioning  towards  it. 

"  Who  be  you? "  asked  the  old  lady,  suspiciously. 


14  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE   BOY ;    OB, 

"  Tin  a  baggage-smasher,"  said  Ben. 

"  Then  I  don't  want  you,'*  answered  the  old  lady, 
clinging  to  her  bag  as  if  she  feared  it  would  be 
wrested  from  her.  "  I'm  surprised  that  the  law 
allows  sich  things.  You  might  be  in  a  better  busi- 
ness, young  man,  than  smashing  baggage." 

"  That's  where  you're  right,  old  lady,"  said  Ben. 

"  Bankin'  would  pay  better,  if  I  only  had  the  money 
to  start  on." 

"  Are  you  much  acquainted  in  New  York?  "  asked 
the  old  lady. 

"  Yes,"  said  Ben ;  "  I  know  the  mayor  'n'  alder- 
men, 'n'  all  the  principal  men.  A.  T.  Stooart's  my 
intimate  friend,  and  I  dine  with  Vanderbilt  every 
Sunday  when  I  aint  engaged  at  Astor's." 

u  Do  you  wear  them  clo'es  when  you  visit  your  fine 
friends  ?  "  asked  the  old  lady,  shrewdly. 

"  No,"  said  Ben.  "  Them  are  my  every-day  clo'es. 
I've  got  some  velvet  clo'es  to  home,  embroidered  with 
gold." 

44 1  believe  you  are  telling  fibs,"  said  the  old  lady. 
"  What  I  want  to  know  13,  if  you  know  my  darter, 
Mrs.  John  Jones ;  her  first  name  is  Seraphiny.  Sbe 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  1ft 

fives  on  Bleecker  Street,  and  her  husband,  who  is  a 
nice  man,  though  his  head  is  bald  on  top,  keeps  a 
grocery  store." 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  said  Ben.     "  It  was  only  yes 
terday  that  she  told  me  her  mother  was   comin'  to 
•ee  her.    I  might  have  knowed  you  was  she." 
"  How  would  you  have  knowed?" 
"  Cause  she  told  me  just  how  you  looked." 
"  Did  she  ?    How  did  she  say  I  looked  ?  " 
44  She  said  you  was  most  ninety,  and  —  " 
44  It  isn't  true,"   said  the  old  lady,  indignantly. 
44  I'm  only  seventy-three,   and  everybody  says   I'm 
wonderful  young-lookin'  for  my  years.     I  don't  be- 
lieve Seraphiny  told  you  so." 

44  She  might  have  said  you  looked  as  if  you  was 
most  ninety." 

44  You're  a  sassy  boy !  M  said  the  owner  of  the  car- 
pet-bag, indignantly.  44 1  don't  see  how  I'm  going  to 
get  up  to  Seraphiny's,"  she  continued,  comp!ainingly. 
44  They'd  ought  to  have  come  down  to  meet  me.  How 
much  will  you  charge  to  carry  my  carpet-bag,  and 
§how  me  the  way  to  my  darter's?  " 
44  Fifty  cents,"  said  Ben. 


16  BEN,    THE   LUGGAGE   BOY;    OJZ, 

"  Fifty  cents ! "  repeated  the  old  lady,  aghast.  "  1 
didn't  think  you'd  charge  more'n  ten." 

"  I  have  to,"  said  Ben.  *4  Board's  high  in  New 
York." 

"  How  much  would  they  charge  me  in  a  carriage? 
Here  you,  sir,"  addressing  a  hackman,  "  what'll  you 
charge  to  carry  me  to  my  darter's  house,  Mrs.  John 
Jones,  in  Bleecker  Street?" 

"What's  the  number?  " 

"  I  think  it's  a  hundred  and  sixty-three." 

"A  dollar  and  a  half." 

"  A  dollar  V  a  half?  Couldn't  you  do  it  for 
less?" 

"  Carry  your  bag,  sir?"  asked  Ben,  of  a  gentleman 
passing. 

The  gentleman  shook  his  head. 

He  made  one  or  two  other  proposals,  which  being 
in  like  manner  unsuccessful,  he  returned  to  the  old 
lady,  who,  having  by  this  time  got  through  her  nego- 
tiations with  the  hackman,  whom  she  had  vainly 
striven  to  beat  down  to  seventy-five  cents,  was  in  a 
more  favorable  mood  to  accept  Ben's  services. 

"  Can't  you  take  less  than  fifty  cents?  "  she  asked, 


AMONG    TUB    W1IA.RY&8*  i7 

"  No,"  said  Ben,  decidedly. 

"  I'll  give  you  forty." 

u  Couldn't  dp  it,"  said  Ben,  who  felt  sure  of  gain* 
ing  his  point  now. 

"  Well,  I  suppose  I  shall  be  obleeged  to  hire  you,1* 
said  the  old  lady  with  a  sigh.  Seraphiny  ought  to 
have  sent  down  to  meet  me.  I  didn't  tell  her  I  waa 
comin'  to-day ;  but  she  might  have  thought  I'd  come, 
bein*  so  pleasant.  Here,  yoi.  boy,  you  may  take  the 
bag,  and  mind  you  don't  run  away  with  it.  There 
aint  nothin'  in  it  but  some  of  my  clo'es." 

"  I  don't  want  none  of  your  clo'es,"  said  Ben. 
"  My  wife's  bigger*n  you,  and  they  wouldn't  fit  her." 

"  Massy  sakes !  you  aint  married,  be  you?" 

"Why  shouldn't  I  be?" 

"I  don't  believe  it.  You're  not  old  enough. 
But  I'm  glad  you  don't  want  the  clo'es.  They 
wouldn't  be  of  no  use  to  you.  Just  you  take  the 
bag,  and  I'll  fbller  on  behind." 

"  I  want  my  pay  first." 

44 1  aint  got  the  change.     My  darter  Seraphiny  wfll 
pay  you  when  we  get  to  her  house." 
9 


18  BBN,    THE   LUGGAGE   BOY;    OR, 

"  That  don't  go  down,"  said  Ben,  decidedly* 
"  Payment  in  advance  ;  that's  the  way  I  do  business." 

"  You'll  get  your  pay  ;  don't  you  be  afraid." 

"  I  know  I  shall ;  but  I  want  it  now." 

"You  won't  run  away  after  I've  paid  you,  will 
you?" 

"  In  course  not.     That  aint  my  style." 

The  old  lady  took  out  her  purse,  and  drew  there- 
from forty-seven  cents.  She  protested  that  she  had 
not  a  cent  more.  Ben  pardoned  the  deficiency, 
feeling  that  he  would,  notwithstanding,  be  well  paid 
for  his  time. 

"All  right,"  said  he,  magnanimously.  "I  don't 
mind  the  three  cents.  It  aint  any  object  to  a  man  of 
my  income.  Take  my  hand,  old  lady,  and  we'll  go 
across  the  street." 

"I'm  afraid  of  bein'  run  over,"  said  she,  hesi- 
tatingly. 

"  What's  the  odds  if  you  be?  "  said  Ben.  "  The 
city'll  have  to  pay  you  damages." 

"Btf;  if  I  got  killed,  that  wouldn't  do  me  any 
good,"  remarked  the  old  lady,  sensibly. 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  19 

"  Then  the  money'd  go  to  your  friends, '  said  Ben, 
consolingly. 

"  Do  you  think  I  will  be  run  over  ?  "  asked  the  old 
lady,  anxiously. 

"  In  course  you  won't.  I'll  take  care  of  you. 
They  wouldn't  dare  to  run  over  me,"  said  Ben,  con- 
fidently. 

Somewhat  reassured  by  this  remark,  the  old  lady 
submitted  to  Ben's  guidance,  and  was  piloted  across 
the  street  in  safety. 

"  I  wouldn't  live  in  New  York  for  a  heap  of  money. 
It  would  be  as  much  as  my  life  is  worth,"  she  re- 
marked. "  How  far  is  Bleecker  Street?  " 

"  About  two  miles." 

"  I  almost  wish  I'd  rid.  But  a  dollar  and  a  half 
Is  a  sight  to  pay." 

"  You'd  have  to  pay  more  than  that." 

"  That's  all  the  man  asked." 

"  I  know, "  said  Ben ;  "  but  when  he'd  got  yo* 
there,  he'd  have  charged  you  five  dollars." 

"  I  wouldn't  have  paid  it." 

u  Yes,  you  would,"  said  Ben. 

"  He  couldn't  make  me," 


580  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE   BOY;    OR, 

"  If  yuu  didn't  pay,  he'd  have  locked  you  in,  and 
driven  you  off  to  the  river,  and  dumped  you  in." 

"  Do  they  ever  do  such  things?"  asked  the  old 
lady,  startled. 

"  In  course  they  do.  Only  last  week  a  beautiful 
young  lady  was  served  that  way,  'cause  she  wouldn't 
pay  what  the  hackman  wanted." 

"  And  what  was  done  to  him  ?  " 

"  Nothin',  "  said  Ben.  "  The  police  is  in  league 
with  'em,  and  get  their  share  of  the  money." 

"Why,  you  don't  say  so!  What  a  wicked 
place  New  York  is,  to  be  sure  I " 

"  Of  course  it  is.  It's  so  wicked  I'm  goin'  to  the 
country  myself  as  soon  as  I  get  money  enough  to 
buy  a  farm." 

"Have  you  got  much  money  saved  up?"  asked 
the  old  lady,  interested. 

"Four  thousand  six  hundred  and  seventy-seven 
dollars  and  fifty-five  cents.  I  don't  count  this 
money  you  give  me,  'cause  I'm  goin'  to  spend  it." 

"You  didn't  make  it  all  carryin'  carpet-bags,* 
•aid  the  old  lady,  incredulously. 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  21 

44  No,  I  made  most  of  it  spekilatin'  in  reai  estate,* 
•aid  Ben. 

"  You  don't  say  I  " 

44  Yes,  I  do." 

44  You've  got  most  enough  to  buy  a  farm  a'ready.* 

44  I  aint  goin'  to  buy  till  I  can  buy  a  good  one." 

44  What's  the  name  of  this  street?" 

44  West  Broadway." 

They  were  really  upon  West  Broadway  by  thif 
time,  that  being  as  direct  a  line  as  any  to  Bleecker 
Street. 

44  You  see  that  store,"  said  Ben. 

44  Yes  ;  what's  the  matter  of  it?  " 

u I  don't  own  it  now"  said  Ben.  44 1  sold  it,  co* 
the  tenants  didn't  pay  their  rent  reg'lar." 

44 1  should  think  you'd  dress  better  if  you've  got 
so  much  money,"  said  the  old  lady,  not  unnaturally. 

"  What's  the  use  of  wearin*  nice  clo'es  round 
among  the  wharves  ? "  said  Ben. 

44  There's  suthin  in  that.  I  tell  my  darter  Jane  — 
she  lives  in  the  country  —  that  it's  no  use  dressin*  up 
the  chillren  to  go  to  school,  —  they're  sure  to  #»* 
their  clo'es  tore  and  dirty  afore  they  get  home." 


22  BEN,    THE   LUGGAGE    EOT;    OR, 

So  Ben  beguiled  the  way  with  wonderful  stories, 
with  which  he  played  upon  the  old  lady's  credu- 
lity. Of  course  it  was  wrong ;  but  a  street  education 
is  not  very  likely  to  inspire  its  pupils  with  a  rev- 
erence for  truth ;  and  Ben  had  been  knocking  about 
the  streets  of  New  York,  most  of  the  time  among 
the  wharves,  for  six  years.  His  street  education 
had  commenced  at  the  age  of  ten.  He  had  adopted 
it  of  his  own  free  will.  Even  now  there  was  a  com- 
fortable home  waiting  for  him ;  there  were  parents 
who  supposed  him  dead,  and  who  would  have  found 
a  difficulty  in  recognizing  him  under  his  present 
circumstances.  In  the  next  chapter  a  light  will  be 
thrown  upon  his  past  history,  and  the  reader  will 
learn  how  his  street  life  began. 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  28 


CHAPTER    II. 

HOW  BEN  COMMENCED  HIS  STREET  LIFE. 

ONE  pleasant  morning,  six  years  before  the  date 
at  which  this  story  commences,  a  small  coasting-ves- 
ael  drew  up  at  a  North  River  pier  in  the  lower  part  of 
the  city.  It  was  loaded  with  freight,  but  there  wa§ 
at  least  one  passenger  on  board.  A  boy  of  ten, 
dressed  in  a  neat  jacket  and  pants  of  gray-mixed 
cloth,  stood  on  deck,  watching  with  interest  the  busy 
city  which  they  had  just  reached. 

44  Well,  bub,  here  we  are,"  said  the  captain  as  he 
passed.  4t  I  suppose  you  know  your  way  home." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Are  you  going  on  shore  now?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Well,  good  luck  to  you,  my  lad.  If  you  are  ever 
down  this  way,  when  I'm  in  port,  I  shall  be  glad  to 
see  you." 

44  Thank  you,  sir ;  good-by." 


24  £BNj    THE   LUGGAGE  BOY;   OJS, 

"  Good-by." 

Ben  clambered  over  the  side,  and  stepped  upon  the 
wharf.  In  the  great  city  he  knew  no  one,  and  he 
was  an  utter  stranger  to  the  streets,  never  before 
having  visited  it.  He  was  about  to  begin  life  for 
himself  at  the  age  of  ten.  He  had  voluntarily  under- 
taken to  support  himself,  leaving  behind  him  a  com- 
fortable home,  where  he  had  been  well  cared  for.  I 
must  explain  how  this  came  about. 

Ben  had  a  pleasant  face,  and  would  be  considered 
good-looking.  But  there  was  a  flash  in  his  eye,  when 
aroused,  which  showed  that  he  had  a  quick  temper, 
and  there  was  an  expression  of  firmness,  unusual 
to  one  so  young,  which  might  have  been  read  by 
an  experienced  physiognomist.  He  was  quick-tem- 
pered, proud,  and  probably  obstinate.  Yet  with 
these  qualities  he  was  pleasant  in  his  manners,  and 
had  a  sense  of  humor,  which  made  him  a  favorite 
among  his  companions. 

His  father  was  a  coal-dealer  in  a  town  a  few  miles 
distant  from  Philadelphia,  of  a  hasty  temper  like 
Ben  himself.  A  week  before  he  had  punished  Ben 
severely  for  a  fault  which  he  had  not  committed. 


AMONG   THE    WHARVES.  25 

The  boy's  pride  revolted  at  the  injustice,  and,  young 
as  he  was,  he  resolved  to  run  away.  I  suppose  there 
are  few  boys  who  do  not  form  this  resolution  at  some 
time  or  other  in  their  lives ;  but  as  a  general  thing 
it  amounts  to  nothing.  With  Ben  it  was  different. 
His  was  a  strong  nature,  whether  for  good  or  for  evil, 
and  when  he  decided  to  do  anything  he  was  not 
easily  moved  from  his  resolve.  He  forgot,  in  the 
present  case,  that,  though  he  had  been  unjustly  pun- 
ished, the  injustice  was  not  intentional  on  the  part  of 
his  father,  who  had  been  under  a  wrong  impression 
respecting  him.  But  right  or  wrong,  Ben  made  up 
his  mind  to  run  away ;  and  he  did  so.  It  was  too 
or  three  days  before  a  good  opportunity  presented 
itself.  Then,  with  a  couple  of  shirts  and  collars 
rolled  up  in  a  small  bundle,  he  made  his  escape 
to  Philadelphia,  and  after  roaming  about  the  streets 
for  several  hours  he  made  his  way  to  the  wharves, 
where  he  found  a  vessel  bound  for  New  York.  Rep- 
resenting to  the  captain  that  he  lived  in  New  York, 
and  had  no  money  to  pay  his  passage  home,  that  offi* 
cer,  who  was  a  good-natured  man,  agreed  to  carry 
him  for  nothing. 


26  BJE..V,    THE   LUGGAGE   EOT;    OB, 

The  voyage  was  now  over,  and  Ben  landed,  a« 
we  have  said,  an  utter  stranger,  with  very  indefinite 
ideas  as  to  how  he  was  to  make  his  living.  He 
had  told  the  captain  that  he  knew  his  way  home,  for 
having  falsely  represented  that  he  lived  in  New  York, 
he  was  in  a  manner  compelled  to  this  additional 
falsehood.  Still,  in  spite  of  his  friendless  condition, 
his  spirits  were  very  good.  The  sun  shone  brightly ; 
all  looked  animated  and  cheerful.  Ben  saw  numbers 
of  men  at  work  about  him,  and  he  thought,  *  *  It  will 
be  a  pity  if  I  cannot  make  a  living." 

He  did  not  care  to  linger  about  the  wharf,  for  the 
captain  might  be  led  to  doubt  his  story.  Accord- 
ingly he  crossed  the  street,  and  at  a  venture  turned 
up  a  street  facing  the  wharf. 

Ben  did  not  know  much  about  New  York,  even  by 
report.  But  he  had  heard  of  Broadway, —  as  who  has 
not?  —  and  this  was  about  all  he  did  know.  When, 
therefore,  he  had  gone  a  short  distance,  he  ventured 
to  ask  a  boot-black,  whom  he  encountered  at  the 
corner  of  the  next  block,  "  Can  you  tell  me  tht 
shortest  way  to  Broadway  ?  " 

"  Follow  your  nose,  Johnny,"  was  the  reply. 


ASFONQ    THE    WHARVES.  27 

•*  My  name  isn't  Johnny,"  replied  Ben,  rather 
indignant  at  the  familiarity.  He  had  not  learned 
that,  in  New  York,  Johnny  is  the  generic  name  fct 
boy,  where  the  specific  name  is  unknown. 

44  Aint  it  though?"  returned  the  boot-black 
"  What's  the  price  of  turnips  out  where  you  live?  n 

"  I'll  make  your  nose  turn  up  if  you  aint  careftd," 
retorted  Ben,  wrathfully. 

"You'll  do,"  said  the  boot-black,  favorably  im- 
pressed by  Ben's  pluck.  "  Just  go  straight  ahead, 
and  you'll  come  to  Broadway.  I'm  going  that  way, 
and  you  can  come  along  with  me  if  you  want  to." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Ben,  appeased  by  the  boy's 
changed  manner. 

"  Are  you  going  to  stay  here?  "  inquired  his  ne*r 
acquaintance. 

"  Yes,"  said  Ben  ;  "  I'm  going  to  live  here." 

"  Where  do  your  friends  live  ?  " 

"I  haven't  got  any  friends  in  New  York,"  said 
Ben,  with  a  little  hesitation. 

44  Over  in  Brooklyn,  or  Jersey,  maybe?  " 

**  No,  I  don't  know  anybody  this  way.** 


28  MEN)  THE  LUGGAGE  BOY;  OB, 

"Whew!"  whistled  the  other.  "How  you  goin 
to  live?" 

**  I  expect  to  earn  my  living,"  said  Ben,  in  a  tone 
of  importance. 

"  Father  and  mother  dead?" 

"  No,  they're  alive." 

"  I  s'pose  they're  poor  ?  " 

"  No,  they're  not ;  they're  well  off." 

The  boot-black  looked  puzzled. 

"Why  didn't  you  stay  at  home  then?  Wouldn't 
they  let  you?" 

"  Of  course  they  would.  The  fact  is,  I've  run 
away." 

"  Maybe  they'd  adopt  me  instead  of  you." 

"  I  don't  think  they  would,"  said  Ben,  laughing. 

"  I  wish  somebody  with  lots  of  cash  would  adopt 
me,  and  make  a  gentleman  of  me.  It  would  be  a 
good  sight  better*n  blackin'  boots." 

"Do  you  make  much  money  that  way?"  inquired 
Ben. 

"  Pleasant  days  like  tLis,  sometimes  I  make  * 
dollar ,  but  when  it  rains  there  aint  much  doin'." 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  29 

•'  How  much  have  you  made  this  morning  ? "  asked 
Bon,  with  interest. 

"  Sixty  cents." 

"  Sixty  cents,  and  it  isn't  more  than  ten  o'clock. 
That's  doing  pretty  well." 

"  'Taint  so  good  in  the  afternoon.  Most  every 
body  gets  their  boots  blacked  in  the  mornin'.  What 
are  you  goin'  to  do?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Ben. 

"Goin'  to  black  boots?  I'll  show  you  how,"  said 
the  other,  generously  overlooking  all  considerations 
of  possible  rivalry. 

"  I  don't  think  I  should  like  that  very  well,"  said 
Ben,  slowly. 

Having  been  brought  up  in  a  comfortable  home, 
he  had  a  prejudice  in  favor  of  clean  hands  and  un- 
soiled  clothes,  —  a  prejudice  of  which  his  street  life 
speedily  cured  him. 

"  I  think  I  should  rather  sell  papers,  or  go  into  a 
store,"  said  Ben. 

"  You  can't  make  so  i»>uch  money  sellin'  papers," 
said  his  new  acquaintance.  "Then  you  might  get 
*  stuck'" 


80  BEN)    THE  LUGGAGE  BOY;   O/Z, 

"What's  that?"  inquired  Ben,  innocently. 

"  Don't  you  know?  "  asked  the  boot-black,  wonder 
Lngly.  "  Why,  it's  when  you've  got  more  papers  than 
you  can  sell.  That's  what  takes  off  the  profits.  1 
was  a  newsboy  once ;  but  it's  too  hard  work  for  the 
money.  There  aint  no  chance  of  gettin'  stuck  on  my 
business." 

"  It's  rather  a  dirty  business,"  said  Ben,  venturing 
to  state  his  main  objection,  at  the  risk  of  offending. 
But  Jerry  Collins,  for  that  was  his  name,  was  not 
very  sensitive  on  this  score. 

"What's  the  odds? "he  said,  indifferently.  "A 
feller  gets  used  to  it." 

Ben  looked  at  Jerry's  begrimed  hands,  and  clothes 
liberally  marked  with  spots  of  blacking,  and  he  felt 
that  he  was  not  quite  ready  to  get  used  to  appearing 
in  public  in  this  way.  He  was  yet  young  in  his 
street  life.  The  time  came  when  he  ceased  to  be  so 
particular. 

"Where  do  you  board?"  asked  Ben,  after  a  little 
pause. 

Jerry  Collins  stared  at  the  questioner  as  if  he  sn*> 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  31 

pected  that  a  joke  was  intended.     But  Ben's  serious 
face  assured  him  that  he  was  in  earnest^ 

"  You're  jolly  green,"  he  remarked,  sententiously. 

"  Look  here,"  said  Ben,  with  spirit,  "  I'll  give 
you  a  licking  if  you  say  that  again." 

It  may  be  considered  rather  singular  that  Jerry, 
Instead  of  resenting  this  threat,  was  led  by  it  to  regard 
Ben  with  favor. 

"I  didn't  mean  anything,"  he  said,  by  way  of 
apology.  "  You're  a  trump,  and  you'll  get  over  it 
when  you've  been  in  the  city  a  week." 

"  What  made  you  call  me  green?  "  asked  Ben. 

"  Did  you  think  I  boarded  up  to  the  Fifth  Av 
enue  ?  "  asked  Jerry.  ' 

"  What's  that,  —  a  hotel  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it's  one  of  the  big  hotels,  where  they  eat  off 
gold  plates." 

"  No,  I  don't  suppose  you  board  there,"  said  Ben, 
laughing ;  "  but  I  suppose  there  are  cheaper  board- 
ing-places. Where  do  you  sleep  ?  " 

41  Sometimes  in  wagons,  or  in  door- ways,  on  th« 
docks,  or  anywhere  where  I  get  a  chance." 


82  BEN,    THE   LUGQAUE   SOT;    OR. 

"Don't  you  get  cold  sleeping  out-doors?"  asked 
Ben. 

"  Oh,  I'm  used  to  it,"  said  Jerry.  "  When  it's  cold 
I  go  to  the  Lodging  House/' 

"What's  that?" 

Jerry  explained  that  there  was  a  Newsboys'  Lodg- 
ing House,  where  a  bed  could  be  obtained  for  six 
cents  a  night. 

"That's  cheap,"  said  Ben. 

"  'Taint  so  cheap  as  sleepin'  out-doors,"  returned 
he  boot-black. 

This  was  true ;  but  Ben  thought  he  would  rather 
)ay  the  six  cents  than  sleep  out,  if  it  were  only  for 
the  damage  likely  to  come  to  his  clothes,  which  were 
yet  clean  and  neat.  Looking  at  Jerry's  suit,  how- 
ever, he  saw  that  this  consideration  would  be  likely 
to  have  less  weight  with  him.  He  began  to  under- 
stand that  he  had  entered  upon  a  very  different  life 
from  the  one  he  had  hitherto  led.  He  was  not  easily 
daunted,  however. 

"  If  he  can  stand  it,  I  can/'  he  said  to  himself, 


AMONG    THB    WHARVJC8. 


CHAPTER    III. 

STREET    SCENES* 

I 

"  HEBE'S  Broadway,"  said  Jerry,  suddenly. 

They  emerged  from  the  side  street  on  which  thej 
bad  been  walking,  and,  turning  the  corner,  found 
themselves  in  the  great  thoroughfare,  a  block  or  two 
above  Trinity  Church. 

Ben  surveyed  the  busy  scenes  that  opened  before 
him,  with  the  eager  interest  of  a  country  boy  who 
saw  them  for  the  first  time. 

"  What  church  is  that?"  he  asked,  pointing  to  the 
tall  spire  of  the  imposing  church  that  faces  Wall 
Street. 

44  That's  Trinity  Church." 

"  Do  you  go  to  church  there?" 

4 1  don't  go  anywhere  else,"  said  Jerry,  equivo 
calty      "  What's  the  use  of  going  to  church  ?  " 

"  I  thought  everybody  went  to  church,"  said  Ben, 
speaking  from  his  experience  in  a  country  village 

3 


54  BEX,    THK   LUGGAGE   BOY;    OR, 

41  that  is,  most  everybody,"  he  corrected  himself,  as 
several  persons  occurred  to  his  mind  who  were  more 
punctual  in  their  attendance  at  the  liquor  saloon 
than  the  church. 

"  If  I'd  got  good  clothes  like  you  have  I'd  go  once 
just  to  see  what  it's  like  ;  but  Fd  a  good  sight  rather 
go  to  the  old  Bowery  Theatre." 

"  But  you  ought  not  to  say  that,"  said  Ben,  a  little 
startled. 

i 

"Why  not?" 

"  Because  it's  better  to  go  to  church  than  to  the 
theatre." 

"Is  it?"  said  Jerry.  "Well,  you  can  go  if  you 
want  to.  Fd  give  more  for  a  stunnin*  old  play  at  the 
Bowery  than  fifty  churches." 

Ben  began  to  suspect  that  Jerry  was  rather  loose 
in  his  ideas  on  the  subject  of  religion,  but  did  not 
think  it  best  to  say  so,  for  fear  of  giving  offence, 
though  in  all  probability  Jerry's  sensitiveness  would 
not  have  been  at  all  disturbed  by  such  a  charge. 

During  the  last  portion  of  the  conversation  they 
bad  been  standing  still  at  the  street  corner. 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  35 

11  I'm  g-oin'  to  Nassau  Street,"  said  Jerry     "  If  you 
want  to  go  up  Broadway,  that's  the  way." 

"Without  waiting  for  an  answer  he  darted  acrosi 
the  street,  threading  his  way  among  the  numerous 
vehicles  with  a  coolness  and  a  success  which  amazed 
Ben,  who  momentarily  expected  to  see  him  run  over. 
He  drew  a  long  breath  when  he  saw  him  safe  on  the 
other  side,  and  bethought  himself  that  he  would  not 
like  to  take  a  similar  risk.  He  felt  sorry  to  hare 
Jerry  leave  him  so  abruptly.  The  boot-black  had 
already  imparted  to  him  considerable  information 
about  New  York,  which  he  saw  was  likely  to  be  of 
benefit  to  him.  Besides,  he  felt  that  any  society  was 
better  than  solitude,  and  a  sudden  feeling  of  loneli 
ness  overpowered  him,  as  he  felt  that  among  the 
crowd  of  persons  that  jostled  him  as  he  stood  at  the 
corner,  there  was  not  one  who  felt  an  interest  in  him, 
or  even  knew  his  name.  It  was  very  different  in  his 
native  village,  where  he  knew  everybody,  and  every- 
body had  a  friendly  word  for  him.  The  thought  did 
occur  to  him  for  a  moment  whether  he  had  been  wise 
in  running  away  from  home ;  but  the  thought  of  tb« 


$6  BENf   THE   LUGGAGE   BOT;    OJZ, 

unjust  punishment  came  with  it,  and  his  expression 
became  firmer  and  more  resolute. 

u  I  won't  go  home  if  I  starve,"  he  said  proudly  to 
himself ;  and  armed  with  this  new  resolution  he  pro- 
ceeded up  Broadway. 

His  attention  was  soon  drawn  to  the  street  mer- 
chants doing  business  on  the  sidewalk.  Here  was  a 
vender  of  neckties,  displaying  a  varied  assortment  of 
different  colors,  for  "  only  twenty-five  cents  each." 
Next  came  a  candy  merchant  with  his  stock  in  trade, 
divided  up  into  irregular  lumps,  and  labelled  a  penny 
apiece.  They  looked  rather  tempting,  and  Ben 
would  have  purchased,  but  he  knew  very  well  that 
his  cash  capital  amounted  to  only  twenty-five  cents, 
which,  considering  that  be  was  as  yet  without  an 
income,  was  likely  to  be  wanted  for  other  purposes. 

Next  came  a  man  with  an  assortment  of  knives, 
all  of  them  open,  and  sticking  into  a  large  board, 
which  was  the  only  shop  required  by  their  proprietor. 
Ben  stopped  a  moment  to  look  at  them.  He  had 
always  had  a  fancy  for  knives,  but  was  now  without 
one.  In  fact  he  had  sold  a  handsome  knife,  which  he 
had  received  as  a  birthday  present,  for  seventy- 


THE    WHARVES.  39 

He  crossed  to  the  foot  of  the  Park,  and  walked  up 
on  the  Park  Row  side.  Here  again  he  saw  a  line  of 
street  merchants.  Most  conspicuous  were  the  deal- 
ers in  penny  ballads,  whose  wares  lined  the  railings, 
and  were  various  enough  to  suit  every  taste.  Here 
was  an  old  woman,  who  might  have  gained  a  first 
prize  for  ugliness,  presiding  over  an  apple-stand. 

"  Take  one,  honey ;  it's  only  two  tints,"  she  said, 
observing  that  Ben's  attention  was  drawn  to  a  rosy- 
cheeked  apple. 

Ben  was  rather  hungry,  and  reflecting  that  prob- 
ably apples  were  as  cheap  as  any  other  article  of 
diet,  he  responded  to  the  appeal  by  purchasing.  It 
proved  to  be  palatable,  and  he  ate  it  with  a  good 
relish. 

"  Ice-cream,  only  a  penny  a  glass,"  was  the  next 
announcement.  The  glasses,  to  be  sure,  were  of  very 
small  size.  Still  ice-cream  in  any  quantity  for  a 
penny  seemed  so  ridiculously  cheap  that  Ben,  poor 
as  he  was,  could  not  resist  the  temptation. 

"  I'll  take  a  glass,"  he  said. 

A  dab  of  ice-cream  was  deposited  in  a  glass1 
mi  1  with  a  pewter  spcon  handed  to  Ben.  He  raised 


40  BEN,    THE   LUGGAGE  EOT;    OR, 

the  spoon  to  his  mouth,  but  alas !  the  mixture  waa 
not  quite  so  tempting  to  the  taste  as  to  the  eye  and 
the  pocket.  It  might  be  ice-cream,  but  there  was 
an  indescribable  flavor  about  it,  only  to  be  explained 
on  the  supposition  that  the  ice  had  been  frozen 
dish-water.  Ben's  taste  had  not  been  educated  up 
to  that  point  which  would  enable  him  to  relish  it.  He 
laid  it  down  with  an  involuntary  contortion  of  the 
face. 

44  Give  it  to  me,  Johnny,"  he  heard  at  his  elbow. 

Turning,  he  saw  a  small,  dirty-faced  boy  of  six, 
with  bare  feet  and  tattered  attire,  who  was  gaz- 
ing with  a  look  of  greedy  desire  at  the  delicious 
mixture. 

Ben  handed  him  the  glass  and  spoon,  and  stood 
by,  looking  at  him  with  some  curiosity  as  he  dis- 
posed of  the  contents  with  a  look  of  evident  enjoy- 
ment. 

44  Do  you  like  it  ?  "  he  asked. 

44  It's  bully,"  said  the  young  epicure. 

If  Ben  had  not  been  restricted  by  his  narrow 
means,  he  would  have  purchased  another  glasi 
for  the  urchin.  It  would  have  been  a  very  cheap 


AMONG   THE    WHARVES.  41 

"  treat. ;*  But  our  young  adventurer  reflected  that 
he  had  lut  twenty-two  cents  left,  and  prudence 
forbade. 

"  I  don't  see  how  he  can  like  the  nasty  stuff," 
he  thought. 

But  the  time  was  to  come  when  Ben  himself,  grown 
less  fastidious,  would  be  able  to  relish  food  quite 
as  uninviting. 

Ben  made  his  way  across  the  Park  to  Broadway 
again.  He  felt  that  it  was  high  time  for  him  to 
be  seeking  employment.  His  ideas  on  this  sub- 
ject were  not  very  well  defined,  but  when  he  left 
home  he  made  up  his  mind  that  he  would  try  to 
get  a  place  in  a  store  on  Broadway.  He  supposed 
that,  among  the  great  number  of  stores,  there  would 
be  a  chance  for  him  to  get  into  some  one.  He  ex- 
pected to  make  enough  to  live  in  a  comfortable  board- 
ing-house, and  buy  his  clothes,  though  he  supposed 
that  would  be  about  all.  He  expected  to  ha\e  to  econo- 
mize on  spending  money  the  first  year,  but  the  second 
year  his  wages  would  be  raised,  ana  tl*  n  it  would 
cowe  easier.  All  this  shows  how  very  /erdant  and 


42  BEN)    THE   LUGGAGE   EOT;    O/J, 

unpractical   our  young   adventurer   was,   and    what 
«  disappointment  he  was  preparing  for  himself. 

However,  Ben's  knowledge  was  to  come  by  experi- 
ence, and  that  before  long. 

Reaching  Broadway,  he  walked  up  slowly  on  the 
west  side,  looking  in  at  the  shop-windows.  In  the 
lower  part  of  this  busy  street  are  many  wholesale 
houses,  while  the  upper  part  is  devoted  principally  to 
retail  shops.  Coming  to  a  large  warehouse  for  the 
sale  of  ready-made  clothing,  Ben  thought  he  might 
as  well  begin  there.  In  such  a  large  place  there 
must  be  a  good  deal  to  do. 

He  passed  in  and  looked  about  him  rather  doubt- 
fully. The  counters,  which  wwe  numerous,  were 
filled  high  with  ready-made  garments.  Ben  saw 
no  one  as  small  as  himself,  and  that  led  him  to  doubt 
whether  his  size  might  not  be  an  objection. 

'•'  Well,  sonny,  what  do  you  want?"  asked  a  clerk. 

"  Don't  you  want  to  hire  a  boy?"  asked  our  young 
adventurer,  plunging  into  his  business. 

"  I  suppose  you  have  had  ccu&iderable  experience 
in  thfc  business  ?  "  said  the  cki-k  inclined  to  bantei 
him  a  little. 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  43 

•*  .No,  I  haven't,"  said  Ben,  frankly. 

"  Indeed,  I  judged  from  your  looks  that  you  were 
a  man  of  experience." 

^  If  you  don't  want  to  hire  me,  I'll  go,"  said  Ben, 
independently. 

"  Well,  young  man,  I'm  afraid  you'll  have  to  go. 
The  fact  is,  we  should  have  to  higher  you  before  we 
could  hire  you ;  "  and  the  clerk  laughed  at  his  witti- 
cism. 

Ben  naturally  saw  nothing  to  laugh  at,  but  felt 
rather  indignant.  He  stepped  into  the  street,  a  little 
depressed  at  the  result  of  his  first  application.  But 
then,  as  he  reflected,  there  were  a  great  many  other 
stores  besides  this,  and  he  might  have  better  luck 
next  time.  He  walked  on  some  distance,  however, 
before  trying  again.  Indeed,  he  had  got  above 
Bleecker  Street,  when  his  attention  was  arrested  by  a 
paper  pasted  inside  of  a  shop-window,  bearing  the 
Inscription :  — 

*'  CASH-BOYS   WANTED." 

Ben  did  not  clearly  undei stand  what  were  th« 
duties  of  a  cash-boy,  though  he  supposed  they  must 
have  something  to  do  with  receiving  money.  Look 


44  B*N,    THE  LUGGAGE   EOT;    OJZ, 

ing  in  through  the  glass  door  he  saw  boys  as  small  as 
himself  flitting  about,  and  this  gave  him  courage  to 
enter  and  make  an  application  for  a  place. 

He  entered,  therefore,  and  walked  up  boldly  to  the 
first  clerk  he  saw. 

"  Do  you  want  a  cash-boy  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Go  up  to  that  desk,  Johnny,"  said  the  clerk, 
pointing  to  a  desk  about  midway  of  the  store-  A 
stout  gentleman  stood  behind  it,  writing  something 
in  a  large  book. 

Ben  went  up,  and  repeated  his  inquiry.  "  Do  you 
want  a  cash-boy  ?  " 

"  How  old  are  you?"  asked  the  gentleman  lookiDg 
down  at  him. 

"  Ten  years  old.*' 

"  Have  you  ever  been  in  a  store?" 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Do  you  live  in  the  city  ?  * 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"With  your  parents?" 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Ben,  with  hesitation. 

"  Who  do  you  live  with,  then?" 

"  With  nobody.     I  take  care  of  myself," 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  43 

M  Humph  ! "  The  gentleman  looked  a  little  sur- 
prised, not  at  the  idea  of  a  boy  of  ten  looking  out  for 
himself,  for  such  cases  are  common  enough  in  New 
York,  but  at  the  idea  of  such  a  well-dressed  lad  as 
Ben  being  in  that  situation. 

"How  long  have  you  been  your  own  man?"  ht 
nquired. 

44  I've  only  just  begun,"  Ben  admitted. 

44  Are  your  parents  dead  ?  " 

44  No,  sir ;  they're  alive." 

44  Then  I  advise  you  to  go  back  to  them.  We  don't 
receive  any  boys  into  our  employment,  who  do  not 
live  with  their  parents." 

The  gentleman  returned  to  his  writing,  and  Ben 
saw  that  his  case  was  hopeless.  His  disappointment 
was  greater  than  before,  for  he  liked  the  looks  of  the 
proprietor,  if,  as  he  judged,  this  was  he.  Besides, 
boys  were  wanted,  and  his  size  would  be  no  objection, 
judging  from  the  appearance  of  the  other  boys  in  the 
store.  So  he  had  been  sanguine  of  success.  Now  he 
saw  that  there  was  an  objection  which  he  could  not 
remove,  and  which  would  be  very  likely  to  stand  ip 
his  way  in  other  places. 


46  BBN>    THE   LUGGAGE  BOY;   JJZ, 


CHAPTER    IV. 

A  RESTAURANT   ON  FULTON   STREET. 

BEN  kept  on  his  way,  looking  in  at  the  shop 
dows  as  before.  He  had  not  yet  given  up  the  idea 
of  getting  a  place  in  a  store,  though  he  began  to  see 
that  his  chances  of  success  were  rather  small. 

The  next  pause  he  came  to  was  before  a  bookstore. 
Here,  too,  there  was  posted  on  the  window :  — 
"BOY  WANTED." 

Ben  entered.  There  were  two  or  three  persons 
behind  the  counter.  The  oldest,  a  man  of  forty,  Ben 
decided  to  be  the  proprietor.  He  walked  up  to  him, 
and  said,  "  Do  you  want  a  boy  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  gentleman.  "  We  want  a  boy  to 
rm  of  errands,  and  deliver  papers  to  customers. 
How  old  are  you  ?  " 

•*  Ten  years  old." 

"  That  is  rather  young." 

"  I'm  pretty  strong  of  my  age,"  said  Ben,  speaking 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  47 

tne  truth  here,  for  he  was  rather  larger  and  stoutei 
than  most  boys  of  ten. 

"  That  is  not  important,  as  you  will  not  have  very 
heavy  parcels  to  carry.  Are  you  well  acquainted 
with  the  streets  in  this  part  of  the  city  ?  " 

This  question  was  a  poser,  Ben  thought.  He  waa 
at  first  tempted  to  say  yes,  but  decided  to  answer 
trathfully. 

"  No,  sir,"  he  answered. 
"  Do  you  live  in  the  lower  part  of  the  city  ?  " 
"  Yes,  sir ;  that  is,  I'm  going  to  live  there." 
"  How  long  have  you  lived  in  the  city  ?  " 
"I   only  arrived  this   morning,"   Ben   confessed, 
eluctantly. 

"  Then  I'm  afraid  you  will  not  answer  my  purpose, 
f^e  need  a  boy  who  is  well  acquainted  with  the  city 
streets." 

He  was  another  disqualification.  Ben  left  the 
store  a  little  discouraged.  He  began  to  think  that  it 
would  be  harder  work  making  a  living  than  he  had 
supposed.  He  would  apply  in  two  or  three  more 
stores,  and,  if  unsuccessful,  he  must  sell  papers  or 
black  boots.  Of  the  two  he  preferred  selling  papers. 


t8  BEN)    THE   LUGGAGE    BOY;    O/J, 

Blacking  boots  would  soil  his  hands  and  his  clothes* 
and,  as  it  was  possible  that  he  might  some  day 
encounter  some  one  from  his  native  village,  tie  did 
not  like  to  have  the  report  carried  home  that  he  had 
become  a  New  York  boot-black.  He  felt  that  his 
education  and  bringing  up  fitted  him  for  something 
better  than  that.  However,  it  was  not  necessary  to 
decide  this  question  until  he  had  got  through  apply- 
ing for  a  situation  in  a  store. 

He  tried  his  luck  again,  and  once  was  on  the  point 
of  being  engaged  at  three  dollars  per  week,  when  a 
question  as  to  his  parents  revealed  the  fact  that  he 
was  without  a  guardian,  and  this  decided  the  ques- 
tion against  him. 

"  It's  of  no  use,"  said  Ben,  despondently.  "  I 
might  as  well  go  back." 

So  he  turned,  and  retraced  his  steps  down  Broad- 
way. By  the  time  he  got  to  the  City  Hall  Park  he 
was  quite  tired.  Seeing  some  vacant  seats  inside,  he 
went  in  and  sat  down,  resting  his  bundle  on  the  seat 
beside  him.  He  saw  quite  a  number  of  street  boys 
within  the  inclosure,  most  of  them  boot-blacks.  A§ 
a  rule,  they  bore  the  marks  of  their  occupation  not 


1MONG    THE    WHARVES.  49 

only  on  their  clothes,  but  on  their  faces  an£  hands  as 
well.  Some,  who  were  a  little  more  careful  than 
the  rest,  were  provided  with  a  small  square  strip  of 
carpeting,  on  which  they  kneeled  when  engaged  in 
"  shining  up "  a  customer's  boots.  This  formed  a 
very  good  protection  for  the  knees  of  their  pantaloons. 
Two  were  even  more  luxurious,  having  chairs  in 
which  they  seated  their  customers.  Where  this  extra 
accommodation  was  supplied,  however,  a  fee  of  ten 
cents  was  demanded,  while  the  boot-blacks  in  general 
asked  but  five. 

"  Black  your  boots?"  asked  one  boy  of  Ben,  observ- 
ing that  our  young  adventurer's  shoes  were  soiled. 
"Yes,"  said  Ben,  "  if  you'll  do  it  for  nothing." 
"  Fll  black  your  eye  for  nothing,"  said  the  other. 
"  Thank  you,"  said  Ben,  "  I  won't  trouble  you." 
Ben  was  rather  interested  in  a  scene  which  he  wit- 
nessed  shortly   afterwards.     A  young  man,   whose 
appearance  indicated  that  he  was  from  the  country, 
was  waylaid  by  the  boys,  and  finally  submitted  hi* 
boots  to  an  operator. 
"  How  much  do  you  want?  " 

**  Twenty-five  cents,"  was  the  reply. 
4 


5C  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE  BOY;   OR* 

"  Twenty-five  cents!"  exclaimed  the  customer, 
aghast.  "You're  jokin',  aint  you?" 

"  Reg'lar  price,  mister,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Why,  I  saw  a  boy  blackin'  boots  down  by  the 
museum  for  ten  cents." 

"  Maybe  you  did ;  but  this  is  the  City  Hall  Park. 
We're  employed  by  the  city,  and  we  have  to  charge 
the  reg'lar  price." 

"  I  wish  I'd  got  my  boots  blacked  down  to  the 
museum,"  said  the  victim,  in  a  tone  of  disappoint- 
ment, producing  twenty-five  cents,  which  was  eagerly 
appropriated  by  the  young  extortioner. 

"  I  say,  Tommy,  give  us  a  treat,  or  we'll  peach," 
said  one  of  the  boys. 

Tom  led  the  way  to  the  ice-cream  vender's  estab- 
lishment, where  with  reckless  extravagance  he  ordered 
a  penny  ice-cream  all  round  for  the  half-dozen  boys 
in  his  company,  even  then  making  a  handsome  thing 
out  of  the  extra  pay  he  had  obtained  from  his  rustic 
patron. 

By  this  time  it  was  half-past  two  o'clock.  So  Ben 
learned  from  the  City  Hall  clock.  He  was  getting 
decidedly  hungry.  There  were  apple  and  cake  stands 


AMONG    THE    WBARVES.  51 

just  outside  the  railings,  on  which  he  could  have  re- 
galed himself  cheaply,  but  his  appetite  craved  some- 
thing more  solid.  There  was  a  faint  feeling,  which 
nothing  but  meat  could  satisfy. 

Ben  had  no  idea  how  much  a  plate  of  meat  would 
cost  at  a  restaurant.  He  had  but  twenty-two  cents* 
and  whatever  he  got  must  come  within  that  limit. 
Still  he  hoped  that  something  could  be  obtained  for 
this  sum. 

Where  to  go, —  that  was  the  question. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  a  good  place  to  get  some  din- 
ner ?  "  he  asked  of  a  boy,  standing  near  him. 

"  Down  on  Nassau  Street  or  Fulton  Street,"  was 
the  reply. 

"Where  is  Fulton  Street?"  asked  Ben,  catching 
the  last  name. 

"  I'm  goin'  that  way.  You  can  go  with  me  if  you 
want  to." 

Ben  readily  accepted  the  companionship  proffered, 
and  was  led  past  the  museum,  the  site  of  which,  as  I 
have  said,  is  now  occupied  by  the  Herald  Building. 

Turning  down  Fulton  Street,  Ber  Boon  saw  a  res- 
taurant, with  bills  of  fare  displayed  >utside. 


62  BEN*    THE  LUGGAGE  BOY;   OK, 

"  That's  a  good  place,"  said  his  guide. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Ben. 

He  scanned  the  bill  in  advance,  ascertaining  to  his 
satisfaction  that  he  could  obtain  a  plate  of  roast  beef 
for  fifteen  cents,  and  a  cup  of  coffee  for  five.  This 
would  make  but  twenty  cents,  leaving  him  a  balance 
of  two  cents. 

He  opened  the  door  and  entered. 

There  was  a  long  table  running  through  the  centre 
ol*  the  apartment,  from  the  door  to  the  rear.  On  each 
side,  against  the  sides  of  the  room,  were  small  tables 
intended  for  four  persons  each.  There  were  but  few 
eating,  as  the  busy  time  at  down-town  restaurants 
usually  extends  from  twelve  to  half-past  one,  or  two 
o'clock,  and  it  was  now  nearly  three. 

Ben  entered  and  took  a  seat  at  one  of  the  side 
tables,  laying  his  bundle  on  a  chair  beside  him. 

A  colored  waiter  came  up,  and  stood  awaiting  hi* 
orders. 

"  Give  me  a  plate  of  roast  beef,"  said  Ben 

"  Yes,  sir.     Coffee  or  tea?  " 

44  Coffee." 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  53 

The  waiter  went  to  the  lower  end  of  the  dining- 
room,  and  called  out,  "  Eoast  beef." 

After  a  brief  delay,  he  returned  with  the  article 
ordered,  and  a  cup  of  coffee. 

There  were  two  potatoes  with  the  meat,  and  a  small 
p^ece  of  bread  on  the  side  of  the  plate.  The  coffee 
looked  muddy,  and  not  particularly  inviting. 

Ben  was  not  accustomed  to  the  ways  of  restaurants, 
and  supposed  that,  as  in  shops,  immediate  payment 
was  expected. 

"  Here's  the  money  —  twenty  cents,"  he  said,  pro- 
ducing the  sum  named. 

"  Pay  at  the  desk  as  you  go  out,"  said  the  waiter. 

Ben  looked  up,  and  then  for  the  first  time  noticed 
a  man  behind  a  counter  in  the  front  part  of  the 
room. 

At  the  same  time  the  waiter  produced  a  green 
ticket,  bearing  "  20  cents"  printed  upon  it. 

Ben  now  addressed  himself  with  a  hearty  appetite 
to  the  dinner.  The  plate  was  dingy,  and  the  meat 
neither  very  abundant  nor  very  tender.  Still  it  can 
hardly  be  expected  that  for  fifteen  cents  a  large 
plate  of  sirloin  can  be  furnished.  Ben  was  not  m  a 


54  BE .ar,  TJT#  z  IOOAGE  BOY;  ojs, 

mood  to  be  critical.  At  home  he  would  have  turned 
up  his  nose  at  such  a  repast,  but  hunger  is  very  well 
adapted  to  cure  one  of  fastidiousness.  He  ate  rap- 
idly, and  felt  that  he  had  seldom  eaten  anything  so 
good.  He  was  sorry  there  was  no  more  bread,  the 
supply  being  exceedingly  limited.  As  for  the  coffee 
he  was  able  to  drink  it,  though  he  did  not  enjoy  it  so 
well.  It  tasted  as  if  there  was  not  more  than  a  tea- 
spoonful  of  milk  in  the  infusion,  while  the  flavor  of 
the  beverage  differed  strangely  from  the  coffee  he  had 
been  accustomed  to  get  at  home. 

"  It  isn't  very  good,"  thought  Ben  ;  and  he  could 
not  help  wishing  he  had  a  cup  of  the  good  coffee 
his  mother  used  to  make  at  home. 

"  Have  anything  more?  "  asked  the  waiter,  comirg 
up  to  the  table. 

Ben  looked  over  the  bill  of  fare,  not  that  he  ex- 
pected to  get  anything  for  the  two  cents  that  still  re- 
mained to  him,  but  because  he  wanted  to  notice  the 
prices  of  different  articles.  His  eye,  rested  rather 
longingly  on  "  Apple  Dumplings/'  He  was  very  fond 
of  this  dish,  and  his  appetite  was  so  far  from  being 

isfied  that  he  felt  that  he  could  have   easily  dis- 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  55 

posed  of  a  plate.  But  the  price  was  ten  cents,  and 
of  course  it  was  entirely  beyond  his  means. 

"  Nothiug  more,"  said  he,  and  rose  from  his  seat. 

He  »vent  up  to  the  counter  and  settled  his  bill,  and 
went  out  again  into  the  street.  He  felt  more  com- 
fortable than  he  had  done,  as  ono  is  very  apt  to  feel 
after  a  good  dinner,  and  Ben's  dinner  had  been  a 
good  one,  his  appetite  making  up  for  any  deficiency 
in  the  quality. 

Where  should  he  go  now  ? 

He  was  still  tired,  and  did  not  care  to  wander 
about  the  streets.  Besides,  he  had  no  particular 
place  to  go  to.  He  therefore  decided  to  walk  back  to 
the  City  Hall  ?'*rk,  and  sit  down  on  one  of  the 
benches.  Theie  would  be  something  to  see,  and  he 
was  interested  in  watching  the  street  boys,  whose 
ranks  he  felt  that  he  should  very  soon  be  compelled 
to  join.  His  prospects  did  not  look  particularly 
bright,  as  he  was  not  provided  with  means  sufficient 
to  pa}T  for  another  meal.  But  the  time  had  not  yet 
come  to  trouble  himself  about  that.  When  he  got 
hungry  again,  he  would  probably  realize  his  positioc 
a  little  more  keenly 


56  jBJBJV,    THE  LUGGAGE   EOT;   OJZ, 


CHAPTER    V. 

A   BEER-GARDEN   IN   THE   BOWERY. 

BEN  sat  down  again  in  his  old  seat,  and  occupied 
himself  once  more  in  looking  about  him.  After  a 
while  he  became  sleepy.  Besides  having  taken  a  con* 
siderable  walk,  he  had  not  slept  much  the  night  be- 
fore. As  no  one  occupied  the  bench  but  himself,  he 
thought  he  might  as  well  make  himself  comfortable. 
Accordingly  he  laid  his  bundle  crosswise  at  one  end, 
and  laid  back,  using  it  for  a  pillow.  The  visor  of  his 
cap  he  brought  down  over  his  eyes,  so  as  to  shield 
them  from  the  afternoon  sun.  The  seat  was  hard,  to 
be  sure,  but  his  recumbent  position  rested  him.  He 
did  not  mean  to  go  to  sleep,  but  gradually  the  sounds 
around  him  became  an  indistinct  hum ;  even  the  noise 
and  bustle  of  busy  Broadway,  but  a  few  feet  distant, 
failed  to  ward  off  sleep,  and  in  a  short  time  he  waa 
sleeping  soundly. 

Of  course  he  could  not  sleep  in  so  public  a  plac* 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  57 

without  attracting  attention.  Two  ragged  boys 
espied  him,  and  held  a  low  conference  together. 

"What's  he  got  in  that  bundle,  Jim,  do  you 
think  ?  "  asked  one. 

"  We'd  better  look  and  see." 

They  went  up  to  the  bench,  and  touched  him,  to 
make  sure  that  he  was  fast  asleep.  The  touch  did 
not  rouse  him  to  consciousness. 

"  Just  lift  up  his  head,  Mike,  and  I'll  take  the  ban- 
die,"  said  the  larger  of  the  two  boys. 

This  was  done. 

"  Now,  let  him  down  softly." 

So  the  bundle  was  removed,  and  poor  Ben,  wander- 
ing somewhere  in  the  land  of  dreains,  was  none  the 
wiser.  His  head,  deprived  of  its  former  support,  now 
rested  on  the  hard  bench.  It  was  not  so  comfortable, 
but  he  was  too  tired  to  awake.  So  he  slept  on. 

Meanwhile  Jim  and  Mike  opened  the  bundle. 

"  It's  a  couple  of  shirts,"  said  Jim. 

"  Is  that  all  ?  "  asked  Mike,  disappointed. 

"  Well,  that's  better  than  nothin'." 

"  Give  me  one  of  'em  " 


58  BEX,    THIS   LVGGAGE   BOY /    Off, 

«4  Itys  just  about  your  size.  'Taint  big  enough 
for  me." 

*'  Then  give  me  the  two  of  'em." 

"What'll  you  give?" 

"I  aint  got  no  stamps.  I'll  pay  you  a  quarter 
when  I  get  it." 

"  That  don't  go  down,"  said  Jim,  whose  confidence 
in  his  confederate's  honesty  was  not  very  great. 
Considering  the  transaction  in  which  they  were  now 
engaged,  it  is  not  surprising  that  there  should  have 
been  a  mutual  distrust.  Being  unable  to  make  any 
bargain,  Jim  decided  to  take  his  share  of  the  booty 
round  to  a  second-hand  clothes-dealer  in  Chatham 
Street.  Here,  after  considerable  higgling,  he  suc- 
ceeded in  selling  the  shirt  for  sixteen  cents,  which 
was  less  than  his  companion  had  offered.  However, 
it  was  cash  down,  and  so  was  ^immediately  available, 
— an  important  consideration  in  the  present  state  of 
Jim's  finances.  "  A  bird  in  the  hand,"  as  he  consid- 
ered, "was  worth  two  in  the  bush." 

Jim  immediately  purchased  a  cigar  with  a  portion 
of  his  dishonest  gains,  and,  procuring  a  light,  walked 


AMONG    TUB    WHARVES.  58 

about  in  a  state  of  high  enjoyment,  puffing  away  as 
coolly  as  a  man  of  twice  his  years. 

Meanwhile  Ben  continued  to  sleep,  happily  uncon- 
scious of  the  loss  of  his  entire  personal  possessions. 
In  his  dreams  he  was  at  home  once  more,  playing 
with  his  school  companions.  Let  him  sleep !  He 
will  waken  soon  enough  to  the  hard  realities  of  a 
street  life,  voluntarily  undertaken,  it  is  true,  but 
none  the  less  likely  to  bear  heavily  upon  him. 

He  slept  a  long  time.  When  he  awoke  it  was  six 
o'clock. 

He  sat  upon  his  seat,  and  rubbed  his  eyes  in 
momentary  bewilderment.  In  his  dreams  he  had  been 
back  again  to  his  native  village,  and  he  could  not  at 
once  recall  his  change  of  circumstances.  But  it  all 
came  back  to  him  soon  enough.  He  realized  with  a 
slight  pang  that  he  had  a  home  no  longer ;  that  he 
was  a  penniless  vagrant,  for  whom  the  hospitality  of 
the  streets  alone  was  open.  He  did  wish  that  he 
could  sit  down  at  the  plentiful  home  table,  and  eat 
the  well-cooked  supper  which  was  always  provided ; 
that  is,  if  he  could  blot  out  one  remembrance : 
when  he  thought  of  the  unjust  punishment  that  had 


60  BEtf,    THE  LUGGAGE  BOY;   OR, 

driven  him  forth,  his  pride  rose,  and  his  determine 
tion  became  as  stubborn  as  ever.  I  do  not  defend 
Ben  in  this.  He  was  clearly  wrong.  The  best  of 
parents  may  be  unintentionally  unjust  at  times,  and 
this  is  far  from  affording  an  adequate  excuse  for  a 
boy  to  leave  home.  But  Ben  had  a  great  deal  of 
pride,  and  I  am  only  telling  you  how  he  felt. 

Our  young  adventurer  did  not  at  first  realize  the 
loss  which  he  had  sustained.  It  was  at  least  five 
minutes  before  he  thought  of  his  bundle  at  all.  At 
length,  chancing  to  look  at  the  seat  beside  him,  he 
missed  it. 

"Where  can  it  be,  I  wonder?"  he  thought,  per- 
plexed. 

He  looked  under  the  bench,  thinking  that  perhaps 
it  had  rolled  off.  But  it  need  not  be  said  that  it 
was  not  to  be  seen. 

Ben  was  rather  disturbed.  It  was  all  he  had 
brought  from  home,  and  constituted  his  entire  earthly 
possessions. 

"  It  must  have  rolled  off,  and  been  picked  up  by 
BOmebody,"  he  thought ;  but  the  explanation  was  not 


A.MONQ    THE    WHARVES.  61 

calculated  to  bring  any  satisfaction.  "  I  did  not 
think  I  should  fall  asleep." 

It  occurred  to  him  that  some  of  the  boys  near  by 
uight  have  seen  it.  So  he  went  up  to  a  group  of 
boot-blacks  near  by,  one  of  whom  was  Jim,  who  had 
actually  been  concerned  in  the  robbery.  The  other 
boys  knew  nothing  of  the  affair. 

"  I  say,  boys,"  said  Ben,  "  have  you  seen  anything 
of  my  bundle?" 

"  What  bundle,  Johnny?"  said  Jim,  who  was  now 
smoking  his  second  cigar. 

41 1  had  a  small  bundle  tied  up  in  a  newspaper," 
said  Ben.  "  I  put  it  under  my  head,  and  then  fell 
asleep.  Now  I  can't  find  it." 

14  Do  you  think  we  stole  it?  "  said  Jim,  defiantly. 

"  Of  course  I  don't,"  said  Ben ;  "  but  I  thought  it 
might  have  slipped  out,  and  you  might  have  seen 
somebody  pick  it  up." 

"  Haven't  seen  it,  Johnny,"  said  one  of  the  other 
boys ;  t:  most  likely  it's  stole." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  "  asked  Ben,  anxiously. 

"  In  course,  you  might  expect  it  would  be.* 

44 1  didn't  mean  to  go  to  sleep." 


62  BEN,    THE   LUGGAGE   LCT;    OX* 

"What  was  there  in  it  ?" 

"  There  was  two  shirts.'* 

"  You've  got  a  shirt  on,  aint  you?" 

"Yes,"  said  Ben. 

"  That's  all  right,  then.  What  does  a  feller  want 
of  a  thousand  shirts  ?  " 

"  There's  some  difference  between  two  shirts  and  a 
thousand,"  said  Ben. 

"What's  the  odds?  I  haven't  got  but  one  shirt. 
That's  all  I  want.  When  it  is  wore  out  I'll  buy  a 
new  one." 

"What  do  you  do  when  it  gets  dirty?"  asked  Ben, 
in  some  curiosity. 

"  Oh,  I  wash  it  once  in  two  or  three  weeks,"  was 
the  reply. 

This  was  not  exactly  in  accordance  with  Ben's 
ideas  of  neatness  ;  but  be  saw  that  no  satisfaction  was 
likely  to  be  obtained  in  this  quarter,  so  he  walked 
away  rather  depressed.  It  certainly  hadn't  been  a 
lucky  day,  —  this  first  day  in  the  city.  He  had  been 
rejected  in  half-a-dozen  stores  in  his  applications  for 
employment,  had  spent  nearly  all  his  money,  and 
been  robbed  of  all  his  clothing  except  what  he  wore 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  63 

Again  Ben  began  to  feel  an  appetite  He  had 
eaten  his  dinner  late,  but  it  had  consisted  of  a  plate 
of  meat  only.  His  funds  being  now  reduced  to  two 
cents,  he  was  obliged  to  content  himself  with  an 
apple,  which  did  something  towards  appeasing  his 
appetite. 

Next  Ben  began  to  consider  anxiously  how  he  was 
to  pass  the  night.  Having  no  money  to  spend  for 
lodging,  there  seemed  nothing  to  do  but  to  sleep  out 
of  doors.  It  was  warm  weather,  and  plenty  of  street 
boys  did  it.  But  to  Ben  it  would  be  a  new  experi- 
ence, and  he  regarded  it  with  some  dread.  He 
wished  he  could  meet  with  Jerry  Collins,  his  ac- 
quaintance of  the  morning.  From  him  he  might 
obtain  some  information  that  would  be  of  service 
in  his  present  strait. 

Three  or  four  hours  must  elapse  before  it  would  be 
time  to  go  to  bed.  Ben  hardly  knew  how  or  where  *x> 
pass  them.  He  had  become  tired  of  the  park  ;  besides, 
he  had  got  over  a  part  of  his  fatigue,  and  felt  able  to 
"valk  about  and  explore  the  city.  He  turned  at  a 
venture  up  Chatham  Street,  and  was  soon  interested 
in  the  vsights  of  this  peculiar  thoroughfare,  —  the 


64  BEN,    THE   LDGGAOE   BOY;    OJR, 

shops  open  to  the  street,  with  half  their  stock  in 
trade  exposed  on  the  sidewalk,  the  importunities  of 
the  traders,  and  the  appearance  of  the  people  whom 
he  met.  It  seemed  very  lively  and  picturesque  to 
Ben,  and  drew  away  his  attention  from  his  own 
awkward  position. 

He  was  asked  to  buy  by  some  of  the  traders,  being 
promised  wonderful  bargains ;  but  his  penniless  con- 
dition put  him  out  of  the  reach  of  temptation. 

So  he  wandered  on  until  he  came  to  the  Bowery, 
a  broad  avenue,  wider  than  Broadway,  and  lined  by 
shops  of  a  great  variety,  but  of  a  grade  inferior  to 
those  of  its  more  aristocratic  neighbor. 

Here,  also,  the  goods  are  liberally  displayed  on  the 
sidewalk,  and  are  generally  labelled  with  low  prices, 
which  tempts  many  purchasers.  The  purchaser,  how- 
ever, must  look  carefully  to  the  quality  of  the  goods 
which  he  buys,  or  he  will  in  many  cases  find  the  low 
price  merely  a  snare  and  a  delusion,  and  regret  that 
he  had  not  paid  more  liberally  and  bought  a  better 
article. 

Later  in  the  evening,  on  his  return  walk,  Ben 
came  to  an  establishment  brilliant  with  light,  from 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  6ft 

which  proceeded  strains  of  music.  Looking  in,  he 
«aw  that  it  was  filled  with  small  tables,  around 
rbich  were  seated  men,  women,  and  children. 
They  had  glasses  before  them  from  which  they 
drank.  This  was  a  Lager  Beer  Hall  or  Garden, 
—  an  institution  transplanted  from  Germany,  and 
chiefly  patronized  by  those  of  German  birth  or 
extraction.  It  seemed  bright  and  cheerful,  and 
our  young  adventurer  thought  it  would  be  pleas- 
ant to  go  in,  and  spend  an  hour  or  two,  listening 
to  the  music;  but  he  was  prevented  by  the  con- 
sciousness that  he  had  no  money  to  spend,  and 
might  be  considered  an  intruder. 

While  he  was  looking  in  wistfully,  he  was  struck 
on  the  back ;  and  turning,  saw,  to  his  surprise,  the 
face  of  his  only  acquaintance  in  New  York,  Jerry 
Collins,  the  boot-black. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  he  said,  eagerly  offering 
his  hand,  without  considering  that  Jerry's  hand,  un 
washed  during  the  day,  was  stained  with  blacking. 
He  felt  so  glad  to  meet  an  acquaintance,  however, 
that  he  would  not  have  minded  this,  even  if  it  had 

occurred  to  him. 
5 


66  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE  EOT;   OR, 

"  The  same  to  you,"  said  Jerry.  "  Are  you  going 
vn?" 

"  I  haven't  got  any  money,"  said  Ben,  a  little 
ashamed  of  the  confession. 

"  Well,  I  have,  and  that'll  do  just  as  well." 

He  took  Ben  by  the  arm,  and  they  passed  through 
a  vestibule,  and  entered  the  main  apartment,  which 
was  of  large  size.  On  one  side,  about  half  way 
down,  was  a  large  instrument  some  like  an  organ, 
from  which  the  music  proceeded.  The  tables  were 
very  well  filled,  Germans  largely  predominating 
among  the  guests. 

"  Sit  down  here,"  said  Jerry. 

They  took  seats  at  one  of  the  tables.  Opposite 
was  a  stout  German  and  his  wife,  the  latter  holding 
a  baby.  Both  had  glasses  of  lager  before  them,  and 
the  baby  was  also  offered  a  share  by  its  mother ;  but, 
from  the  contortions  of  its  face,  did  not  appear  to 
relish  it. 

" Zwei  Glass  Lager"  said  Jerry,  to  a  passing 
attendant. 

"  Can  you  speak  German?  "  asked  Ben,  surprised. 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  67 

l<  Yaw."  said  Jerry ;  "  my  father  was  an  Irish- 
man, and  my  mother  was  a  Dutchman." 

Jerry's  German,  however,  seemed  to  be  limited,  as 
lie  made  no  further  attempts  to  converse  in  that  Ian 
guage. 

The  glasses  were  brought.  Jerry  drank  his  down 
at  a  draught,  but  Ben,  who  had  never  before  tasted 
lager,  could  not  at  once  become  reconciled  to  iU  bit* 
ter  taste. 

"  Don't  you  like  it?  "  asked  Jerry. 

*•  Not  very  much,"  said  Ben. 

"  Then  I'll  finish  it  for  you ;"  and  he  suited  tn« 
action  to  the  word. 

Besides  the  lager  a  few  plain  cakes  were  sold,  but 
nothing  more  substantial.  Evidently  the  beer  was 
the  great  attraction.  Ben  could  not  help  observing, 
with  some  surprise,  that,  though  everybody  was  drink 
ing,  there  was  not  the  slightest  disturbance,  or  want 
of  decorum,  or  drunkenness.  The  music,  which  was 
furnished  at  intervals,  was  of  very  good  quality,  and 
was  listened  to  with  attention. 

"I  was  goin'  to  Tony  Pastor's  to-aight,"  said 
Jerry,  "  if  I  hadn't  met  you." 


68  BBN,    THE  LUGGAGE  BOY;    OR, 

"  What  sort  of  a  place  is  that?"  asked  Ben. 

"  Oh,  it's  a  bully  place  —  lots  of  fun.  You  must 
go  there  some  time." 

*fc  I  think  I  will,"  answered  Ben,  mentally  adding, 
"  if  I  ever  have  money  enough." 

Here  the  music  struck  up,  and  they  stopped  to  lis- 
ten to  it.  When  this  was  over,  Jerry  proposed  to  go 
out.  Ben  would  have  been  willing  to  stay  longer ; 
but  he  saw  that  his  companion  did  not  care  so  much 
for  the  music  as  himself,  and  he  did  not  wish  to  lose 
sight  of  him.  To  be  alone  in  a  great  city,  partic- 
ularly under  Ben's  circumstances,  is  not  very  pleas- 
ant, and  our  young  adventurer  determined  to  stick  to 
his  new  acquaintance,  who,  though  rough  in  his  man- 
ners, had  yet  seemed  inclined  to  be  friendly,  and  Ben 
felt  sadly  in  need  of  a  friend. 


AMONG   THE   WHARVES,  69 


CHAPTER    VI., 

THE   BURNING  BALES. 

"  WHEHE  are  you  going  to  sleep  to  night?"  asked 
Ben,  introducing  a  subject  which  had  given  him  some 
anxiety. 

"  I  dom't  know,"  said  Jerry,  carelessly.  "  Til  find 
a  place  somewhere." 

"  I'll  go  with  you,  if  you'll  let  me,"  said  Ben. 

u  In  course  I  will." 

"  I  haven* t  got  any  money." 

"What's  the  odds?  They  don't  charge  nothin' 
at  the  hotel  where  I  stop." 

"  What  time  do  you  go  to  bed?" 

"  Most  any  time.    Do  you  feel  sleepy?  " 

"  Rather.    I  didn't  sleep  much  last  night." 

"  Well,  we'll  go  and  find  a  place  now.  How*d  you 
like  sleepin*  on  cotton-bales  ?  " 

"  I  think  that  would  be  comfortable." 

'•  There's  a  pile  of  bales  down  on  the  pier,  where 


70  BEN)    THE    LUGGAGE  BOY,    OJZ, 

the  New  Orleans  steamers  come  in.  Maybe  we 
could  get  a  chance  there." 

"All  right.     Where  is  it?" 

"Pier  8,  North  River.  It'll  take  us  twenty 
minutes,  or  maybe  half  an  hour,  to  go  there." 

"  Let  us  go,"  said  Ben. 

He  felt  relieved  at  the  idea  of  so  comfortable  a  bed 
as  a  cotton-bale,  and  was  anxious  to  get  stowed 
away  for  the  night. 

The  two  boys  struck  across  to  Broadway,  ami 
followed  that  street  down  past  Trinity  Church,  tarn- 
ing  down  the  first  street  beyond.  Rector  Street, 
notwithstanding  its  clerical  name,  is  far  from  an 
attractive  street.  Just  in  the  rear  of  the  great  church, 
and  extending  down  to  the  wharves,  is  a  collection 
of  miserable  dwellings,  occupied  by  tenants  upon 
whom  the  near  presence  of  the  sanctuary  appears  to 
produce  little  impression  of  a  salutary  character. 
Ben  looked  about  him  in  ill-concealed  disgust.  He 
neither  fancied  the  neighborhood,  nor  the  people 
whom  he  met.  But  the  Island  is  very  narrow  just 
here,  and  he  had  not  far  to  walk  to  West  Street, 
which  runs  along  the  edge  of  Manhattan  Island,  and 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  71 

is  lined  with  wharves.  Jerry,  of  course,  lid  not 
mind  the  surroundings.  He  was  too  well  used  to 
them  to  care. 

They  brought  out  opposite  the  pier. 

"There  it  is,"  said  Jerry. 

Ben  saw  a  pile  of  cotton-bales  heaped  up  on  the 
wharf  in  front.  Just  behind  them  was  a  gate,  and 
over  it  the  sign  of  the  New  Orleans  Company. 

44 1  should  think  somebody  would  steal  the  bales," 
said  Ben.  "  Are  they  left  out  here  all  night?  " 

44  There's  a  watchman  round  here  somewhere,"  said 
Jerry.  "  He  stays  here  all  night  to  guard  the  bales." 

44  Will  he  let  us  sleep  here  ?  " 

44 1  don't  know,"  said  Jerry.  44  We'll  creep  in, 
when  he  isn't  looking." 

The  watchman  was  sitting  down,  leaning  his  back 
against  one  of  the  bales.  A  short  pipe  was  in  his 
mouth,  and  he  seemed  to  be  enjoying  his  smoke. 
This  was  contrary  to  orders,  for  the  cotton  being 
combustible  might  easily  catch  fire ;  but  this  man, 
supposing  that  he  would  not  be  detected,  indulged 
bVself  in  the  forbidden  luxury. 

Vow  creep  along  softly,"  said  Jerry. 


72  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE  SOT;   OR, 

* 

The  latter,  being  barefooted,  had  an  ad\antage 
over  Ben,  but  our  young  adventurer  crept  after  him 
as  softly  as  he  could.  Jerry  found  a  bale  screened 
from  observation  by  the  higher  piles  on  each  side, 
where  he  thought  they  could  sleep  unobserved. 
Following  his  lead,  Ben  stretched  himself  out  upon  it. 

The  watchman  was  too  busily  occupied  with  his 
pipe  to  detect  any  noise. 

"  Aint  it  comfortable  ?  "  whispered  Jerry. 

Al  Yes,"  said  Ben,  in  the  same  low  tone. 

41 1  wouldn't  ask  for  nothin'  better,"  said  Jerry. 

Ben  was  not  so  sure  about  that ;  but  then  he  had 
not  slept  out  hundreds  of  nights,  like  Jerry,  in  old 
wagons,  or  on  door-steps,  or  wherever  else  he  could  j 
so  he  had  a  different  standard  of  comparison. 

He  could  not  immediately  go  to  sleep.  He  was 
tired,  it  was  true,  but  his  mind  was  busy.  It  waa 
only  twelve  hours  since  he  had  landed  in  the  city, 
but  it  had  been  an  eventful  twelve  hours.  He  under- 
stood his  position  a  little  better  now,  and  how  much 
he  had  undertaken,  in  boldly  leaving  home  at  ten 
years  of  age,  and  taking  upon  himself  the  task  of 
earning  his  living. 


AMONG    THE    WHARTSS.  73 

If  he  had  known  what  was  before  him,  would  he 
have  left  home  at  all? 

Ben  was  not  sure  about  this.  He  did  own  to  him- 
self, however,  that  he  was  disappointed.  The  city 
had  not  proved  the  paradise  he  had  expected.  In- 
stead of  finding  shopkeepers  eager  to  secure  his 
services,  he  bad  found  himself  uniformly  rejected. 
He  began  to  suspect  that  it  was  rather  early  to  begin 
the  world  at  ten  years  of  age.  Then  again,  though 
he  was  angry  with  his  father,  he  had  no  cause  of 
complaint  against  his  mother.  She  had  been  uni- 
formly kind  and  gentle,  and  he  found  it  hard  to  keep 
back  the  tears  when  he  thought  how  she  would  be 
distressed  at  his  running  away.  He  had  not  thought 
of  that  in  the  heat  of  his  first  anger,  but  he  thought 
of  it  now.  How  would  she  feel  if  she  knew  where  he 
was  at  this  moment,  resting  on  a  cotton-bale,  on  a 
city  wharf,  penniless  and  without  a  friend  in  the 
great  city,  except  the  ragged  boy  who  was  already 
asleep  at  his  side  ?  She  would  feel  badly,  Ben  knew 
that,  and  he  half  regretted  having  been  so  precipitate 
in  his  action.  He  could  remedy  it  all,  and  relieve  hia 
mother's  heart  by  going  back.  But  hers  Ben's  pride 


74  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE  BOY;    OB, 

came  in.  To  go  back  would  be  to  acknowledge  him- 
self wrong ;  it  would  be  a  virtual  confession  of  failure, 
and,  moreover,  knowing  his  father's  sternness,  he 
knew  that  he  would  be  severely  punished.  Unfortu- 
nately for  Ben,  his  father  had  a  stern,  unforgiving 
disposition,  that  never  made  allowances  for  the 
impulses  of  boyhood.  He  had  never  condescended 
to  study  his  own  son,  and  the  method  of  training  he 
had  adopted  with  him  was  in  some  respects  very  per- 
nicious. His  system  hardened,  instead  of  softening, 
and  prejudiced  Ben  against  what  was  right,  madden- 
ing him  with  a  sense  of  injustice,  and  so  preventing 
his  being  influenced  towards  good.  Of  course,  all 
this  did  not  justify  Ben  in  running  away  from  home. 
The  thought  of  his  mother  ought  to  have  been  suffi- 
cient to  have  kept  him  from  any  such  step.  But  it 
was  necessary  to  be  stated,  in  order  that  my  readers 
might  better  understand  what  sort  of  a  boy  Ben  was. 
So,  in  spite  of  his  half  relenting,  Ben  determined 
that  he  would  not  go  home  at  all  events.  Whatever 
hardships  lay  before  him  in  the  new  life  which  he  had 
adopted,  he  resolved  to  stand  them  as  well  as  he 
could.  Indeed,  however  much  he  might  desire  to* 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  75 

retiac«  his  steps,  he  had  no  money  to  carry  him  back, 
nor  could  he  obtain  any  unless  he  should  write  home 
for  it,  and  this  again  would  be  humiliating.  Ben's 
last  thought,  then,  as  he  sank  to  sleep,  was,  that  he 
would  stick  to  New  York,  and  get  his  living  some- 
how, even  if  he  had  to  black  boots  for  a  living. 

At  the  end  of  an  hour,  both  boys  were  fast  asleep. 
The  watchman,  after  smoking  his  pipe,  got  up,  and 
paced  up  and  down  the  wharf  drowsily.  He  did  not 
happen  to  observe  the  young  sleepers.  If  he  had 
done  so,  he  would  undoubtedly  have  shaken  them 
roughly,  and  ordered  them  off.  It  was  rather  fortu- 
nate that  neither  Ben  nor  his  companion  were  in  the 
habit  of  snoring,  as  this  would  at  once  have  betrayed 
their  presence,  even  to  the  negligent  watchman. 

After  a  while  the  watchman  bethought  himself 
again  of  his  pipe,  and,  filling  the  bowl  with  tobacco, 
lighted  it.  Then,  with  the  most  culpable  careless- 
ness, he  half  reclined  on  one  of  the  bales  and  "  took 
comfort."  Not  having  prepared  himself  for  the  vigils 
of  the  night  by  repose  during  the  day$  he  began  to 
feel  uncommonly  drowsy.  The  whiffs  came  less  and 
less  frequently,  until  at  last  the  pipe  fell  from  bis  lips, 


76  SEN,    THE  LUGGAGE  BOY;    OH, 

and  he  fell  back  fast  asleep.  The  burning  contents 
of  the  pipe  fell  on  the  bale,  and  gradually  worked 
their  way  down  into  the  interior.  Here  the  mischief 
soon  spread.  What  followed  may  easily  be  im- 
agined. 

Ben  was  aroused  from  his  sleep  by  a  confused  out* 
cry.  He  rubbed  his  eyes  to  see  what  was  the  matter 
There  was  something  stifling  and  suffocating  in  tho 
atmosphere,  which  caused  him  to  choke  as  he 
breathed.  A*  he  became  more  awake,  he  realized 
that  the  cotton-bales,  among  which  he  had  taken 
refuge,  were  on  fire.  He  became  alarmed,  and  shook 
Jerry  energetically. 

"  What's  up? "  said  Jerry,  drowsily.  "  I  aiat  done 
nothin'.  You  can't  take  me  up." 

"  Jerry,  wake  up ;  the  bales  are  on  fire,"  said  Ben. 

"  I  thought  'twas  a  eopV"  said  Jerry,  rousing,  and 
at  a  glance  understanding  the  position  of  affairs. 
"Let's  get  out  of  this." 

That  was  not  quite  so  easy.  There  was  fire  on 
all  sides,  and  they  must  rush  through  it  at  some  risk. 
However,  it  was  every  moment  getting  worse,  and 
there  was  no  chance  for  delay. 


AMONG   THE    WHARVES.  77 

*'  Foller  me."  said  Jerry,  and  he  dashed  through, 
closely  pursued  by  Ben. 

By  this  time  quite  a  crowd  of  men  and  boys  had 
gathered  around  the  burning  bales. 

When  the  two  boys  rushed  out,  there  was  a  general 
exclamation  of  surprise.  Then  one  burly  man  caught 
Jerry  by  the  arm,  and  said,  "  Here's  the  young  villain 
that  set  the  bales  on  fire." 

"  Let  me  alone,  will  you  ?  "  said  Jerry.  "  Yet 
grandmother  set  it  on  fire,  more  likely." 

No  sooner  was  Jerry  seized,  than  another  man 
caught  hold  of  Ben,  and  forcibly  detained  him. 

"  I've  got  the  other,"  he  said. 

"  Now,  you  young  rascal,  tell  me  how  you  did  it," 
said  the  first.  "  Was  you  smokin'  ?  " 

"  No,  I  wasn't,"  said  Jerry,  shortly.  "  I  was 
eleepin'  along  of  this  other  boy." 

"  What  made  you  come  here  to  sleep?  " 

*'  'Cause  we  hadn't  no  other  bed." 

"  Are  you  sure  you  wasn't  smoking?" 

"  Look  here,"  said  Jerry,  contemptuously,  "  you 
must  think  I'm  a  fool,  to  go  and  set  my  own  bed  on 
fire." 


78         BEN,  THE  LUGGAGE  BOY,  OR, 

" That's  true,"  said  a  bystander.  "It  wouldn't 
be  very  likely." 

"Who  did  it,  then?"  asked  the  stout  man,  sus- 
piciously. 

"  It's  the  watchman.  I  seed  him  smokin*  when  I 
turned  in/* 

"Where  is  he  now?" 

Search  was  made  for  the  watchman,  but  he  bad 
disappeared.  Awaking  to  a  consciousness  of  what 
mischief  he  had  caused  through  his  carelessness,  he 
had  slipped  away  in  the  confusion,  and  was  not 
likely  to  return. 

"The  boy  tells  the  truth,"  said  one  of  the  crowd. 
"I  saw  the  watchman  smoking  myself.  No  doubt 
the  fire  caught  from  his  pipe.  The  boys  are  innocent, 
Better  let  them  go." 

The  two  custodians  of  Jerry  and  Ben  released  their 
hold,  and  they  gladly  availed  themselves  of  the  op- 
portunity to  remove  themselves  to  a  safer  distance 
from  their  late  bedchamber. 

Two  fire-engines  came  thundering  up,  and  streams 
of  water  were  directed  effectively  at  the  burning 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES*  79 

bales.     The  flames  were  extinguished,  but  not  till 
considerable  damage  had  been  done. 

As  the  two  boys  watched  the  contest  between  the 
flames  and  the  engines,  from  a  safe  distance,  they 
heard  the  sonorous  clang  of  the  bell  in  the  church* 
tower,  ringing  out  twelve  o'clock. 


80  JJUIT,    THE  LUGGAGE  BOY;   OS, 


CHAPTER    VIL 

BEN'S   TEMPTATION. 

"JEST  my  luck!"  complained  Jerry.  "Why 
couldn't  the  fire  have  waited  till  mornin'  ?  " 

"  We  might  have  burned  up,"  said  Ben,  who  wa» 
considerably  impressed  by  his  narrow  escape. 

"  Only  we  didn't,"  said  Jerry.  "  We'll  have  to  try 
another  hotel  for  the  rest  of  the  night." 

"Where  shall  we  go?" 

"  We  may  find  a  hay-barge  down  to  the  pier  at  the 
foot  of  Franklin  Street." 

"Is  it  far?" 

"  Not  very." 

"  Let  us  go  then." 

So  the  boys  walked  along  the  street  until  they 
came  to  the  pier  referred  to.  There  was  a  barge 
loaded  with  hay,  lying  alongside  the  wharf.  Jerry 
speedily  provided  himself  with  a  resting-place  upon 
it,  and  Ben  followed  his  example.  It  proved  to  be 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  81 

quite  as  comfortable,  if  not  more  so,  than  their  for- 
mer  bed,  and  both  boys  were  soon  asleep.  How  long 
he  slept  Ben  did  not  know,  but  he  was  roused  to  con- 
sciousness by  a  rude  shake. 

u  Wake  up  there  !  "  said  a  voice. 

Ben  opened  his  eyes,  and  saw  a  laboring  man 
bending  over  him. 

"Is  it  time  to  get  up?"  he  inquired,  hardly  con- 
scious where  he  was. 

"  I  should  think  it  was,  particularly  as  you  haven't 
paid  for  your  lodging." 

"Where's  Jerry?"  asked  Ben,  missing  the  boot- 
black. 

The  fact  was,  that  Jerry,  whose  business  required 
him  to  be  astir  early,  had  been  gone  over  an  hour. 
He  had  not  felt  it  necessary  to  wake  up  Ben,  know- 
ing that  the  latter  had  nothing  in  particular  to  call 
him  up. 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  Jerry.  You'd 
better  be  going  home,  young  'un.  Take  my  advice, 
and  don't  stay  out  another  night." 

He  evidently  thought  that  Ben  was  a  truant  from 

€ 


62  BEN)    THE  LUGGAGE  BOY,'    O/Z, 

home,  as  his  dress  would  hardly  class  him  among  the 
homeless  boys  who  slept  out  from  necessity. 

Ben  scrambled  upon  the  pier,  and  took  a  cross 
street  up  towards  Broadway.  He  had  slept  off  his 
fatigue,  and  the  natural  appetite  of  a  healthy  boy 
began  to  assert  itself.  It  was  rather  uncomfortable 
to  reflect  that  he  was  penniless,  and  had  no  means 
of  buying  a  breakfast.  He  had  meant  to  ask  Jerry's 
advice,  as  to  some  occupation  by  which  he  could 
earn  a  little  money,  and  felt  disappointed  that  his 
companion  had  gone  away  before  he  waked  up.  His 
appetite  was  the  greater  because  he  had  been  limited 
to  a  single  apple  for  supper. 

Where  to  go  he  did  not  know.  One  place  was  as 
good  as  another.  It  was  a  strange  sensation  to  Ben 
to  feel  the  cravings  of  appetite,  with  nothing  to 
satisfy  it.  All  his  life  he  had  been  accustomed  to  a 
good  home,  where  his  wants  were  plentifully  provided 
for.  He  had  never  had  any  anxiety  about  the  supply 
of  his  daily  wants.  In  the  city  there  were  hundreds 
of  boys  younger  than  he,  who,  rising  in  the  morning, 
knew  not  where  their  meals  were  to  come 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  8$ 

or  whether  they  were  to  have  any ;  but  this  had  never 
been  his  case. 

"  I  am  young  and  strong,"  thought  Ben.-  u  Why 
can't  1  find  something  to  do?  " 

His  greatest  anxiety  was  to  work,  and  earn  hit 
living  somehow;  but  how  did  not  seem  clear. 
Even  if  he  were  willing  to  turn  boot-black,  he  had 
no  box  nor  brush,  and  had  some  doubts  whether 
he  should  at  first  possess  the  requisite  skill.  Selling 
papers  struck  him  more  favorably ;  but  here  again  the 
want  of  capital  would  be  an  objection 

So,  in  a  very  perplexed  frame  of  mind,  our  young 
adventurer  went  on  his  way,  and  after  a  while  caught 
sight  of  the  upper  end  of  the  City  Hall  Park.  Here 
he  felt  himself  at  home,  and,  entering,  looked  among 
the  dozens  of  boys  who  were  plying  their  work  to 
see  if  he  could  not  find  his  acquaintance  Jerry.  But 
here  he  was  unsuccessful.  Jerry's  business  stand 
was  near  the  Cortlandt  Street  pier. 

Hour  after  hour  passed,  and  Ben  became  more  and 
more  hungry  and  dispirited.  He  felt  thoroughly 
helpless.  There  seemed  to  be  nothing  that  he  conic 
do.  He  began  to  be  faint,  and  his  head  ached  On« 


84  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE  BOY;   OK, 

o'clock  found  him  on  Nassau  Street,  near  the  coruei 
of  Fulton.  There  was  a  stand  for  the  sale  of  cakes 
and  'pies  located  here,  presided  over  by  an  old 
woman,  of  somewhat  ample  dimensions.  This  stall 
had  a  fascination  for  poor  Ben.  He  had  such  a 
craving  for  food  that  he  could  not  take  his  eyes  off 
the  tempting  pile  of  cakes  which  were  heaped  up 
before  him.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he  should  be  per- 
fectly happy  if  he  could  be  permitted  to  eat  all 
he  wanted  of  them. 

Ben  knew  that  it  was  wrong  to  steal.  He  had 
never  in  his  life  taken  what  did  not  belong  to  him, 
which  is  more  than  many  boys  can  say,  who  have 
been  brought  up  even  more  comfortably  than  he. 
But  the  temptation  now  was  very  strong.  He  knew  it 
was  not  right ;  but  he  was  not  without  excuse.  Watch- 
ing his  opportunity,  he  put  his  hand  out  quickly,  and, 
seizing  a  couple  of  pies,  stowed  them  away  hastily 
in  his  pocket,  and  was  about  moving  off  to  eat  them 
in  some  place  where  he  would  not  be  observed.  But 
though  the  owner  of  the  stolen  articles  had  not 
observed  the  theft,  there  was  a  boy  hanging  about 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  83 

the  stall,  possibly  with  the  same  object  in  new,  who 
did  see  it. 

"  He's  got  some  of  your  pies,  old  lady,"  said  She 
voung  detective. 

The  old  woman  looked  round,  and  though  the  pies 
were  in  Ben's  pocket  there  was  a  telltale  in  his  face 
which  betrayed  him. 

"  Put  back  them  pies,  you  young  thafe  I "  said  the 
angry  pie-merchant.  "  Aint  you  ashamed  of  yerself 
to  rob  a  poor  widdy,  that  has  hard  work  to  support 
herself  and  her  childers, —  you  that's  dressed  like  a 
gentleman,  and  ought  to  know  better  ?  " 

"  Give  it  to  him,  old  lady,"  said  the  hard-hearted 
young  vagabond,  who  had  exposed  Ben's  iniquity. 

As  for  Ben,  he  had  not  a  word  to  say.  In  spite  of 
his  hunger,  he  was  overwhelmed  with  confusion  at 
having  actually  attempted  to  steal,  and  been  caught 
in  the  act.  He  was  by  no  means  a  model  boy ;  but 
apart  from  anything  which  he  had  been  taught  in  the 
Sunday  school,  he  considered  stealing  mean  and  dis- 
creditable, and  yet  he  had  been  led  into  it.  What 
would  his  friends  at  home  think*  of  it,  if  they  should 
ever  hear  of  it?  So,  as  T  said,  *ie  stood  without  a 


#6  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE   BOY;    O-R, 

word  to  say  in  his  defence,  mechanically  replacing 
the  pies  on  the  stall. 

u  I  say,  old  lady,  you'd  orter  give  me  a  pie  for 
tellin'  you,"  said  the  informer. 

"  You'd  have  done  the  same,  you  young  imp,  if 
you'd  had  the  chance,"  answered  the  pie-vender,  with 
more  truth  than  gratitude.  "  Clear  out,  the  whole  on 
ye.  Fve  had  trouble  enough  with  ye." 

Ben  moved  off,  thankful  to  get  off  so  well.  He 
had  feared  that  he  might  be  handed  over  to  the  police, 
and  this  would  have  been  the  crowning  disgrace. 

But  the  old  woman  seemed  satisfied  with  the  resto- 
ration of  her  property,  and  the  expression  of  her 
indignation.  The  attempt  upon  her  stock  she 
regarded  with  very  little  surprise,  having  suffered 
more  than  once  before  in  a  similar  way. 

But  there  was  another  spectator  of  the  scene,  whose 
attention  had  been  drawn  to  the  neat  attire  and 
respectable  appearance  of  Ben.  He  saw  that  he  dif- 
fered considerably  from  the  ordinary  run  of  street 
boys.  He  noticed  also  the  flush  on  the  boy's  cheek 
when  he  was  detected,  and  judged  that  this  was  his 
first  offence.  Something  out  of  the  common  way 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  87 

mast  have  driven  him  to  the  act.  He  felt  impelled 
to  follow  Ben,  and  learn  what  that  something  was. 
I  may  as  well  state  here  that  he  was  a  }roung  man  of 
twenty-five  or  thereabouts,  a  reporter  on  one  or  more 
of  the  great  morning  papers.  He,  like  Ben,  had  come 
to  the  city  in  search  of  employment,  and  before  he 
secured  it  had  suffered  more  hardships  and  privations 
than  he  liked  to  remember.  He  was  now  earning  a 
modest  income,  sufficient  to  provide  for  his  wants, 
and  leave  a  surplus  over.  He  had  seen  much  of 
suffering  and  much  of  crime  in  his  daily  walks  about 
the  city,  but  his  heart  had  not  become  hardened,  nor 
his  sympathies  blunted.  He  gave  more  in  proportion 
to  his  means  than  many  rich  men  who  have  a  repu- 
tation for  benevolence. 

Ben  had  walked  but  a  few  steps,  when  be  felt  a 
hand  upon  his  shoulder. 

Looking  round  hastily,  .he  met  the  gaze  of  the 
young  man.  He  had  thought  at  first  it  might  be  a 
policeman,  and  he  felt  relieved  when  he  saw  his  mis 
take. 

"  You  are  the  boy  who  just  now  took  a  couple  of 
pies  from  a  stall  ?  "  said  the  reporter. 


<88  BEN,    THB   LUGGAGE   BOY;    OR* 

44  Yes,"  said  Ben,  hesitatingly,  his  face  crimsoning 
as  he  spoke. 

"  Do  you  mind  telling  me  why  you  did  so?" 

There  was  something  in  his  tone  which  reassured 
Ben,  and  he  determined  to  tell  the  truth  frankly. 

"I  have  eaten  nothing  to-day,"  he  said. 

"You  never  took  anything  before?" 

"  No,"  said  Ben,  quickly. 

"  I  suppose  you  had  no  money  to  buy  with?" 

"  No,  I  had  not." 

"  How  does  it  happen  that  a  boy  as  well  dreowd 
as  you  are,  are  in  such  a  position  ?  " 

44  I  would  rather  not  tell,"  said  Ben. 

44  Have  you  run  away  from  home? " 

44  Yes  ;  I  had  a  good  reason,"  he  added,  quickly. 

44  What  do  you  propose  to  do?  You  must  earn 
your  living  in  some  way,  or  starve." 

"  I  thought  I  might  get  a  place  in  a  store  ;  but  I 
have  tried  half  a  dozen,  and  they  won't  take  me." 

44  No,  your  chance  will  be  small,  unless  you  can 
bring  good  references.  But  you  must  be  hungry." 

"  I  am,"  Ben  admitted. 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES. 

"  That  can  be  remedied,  at  all  events.  I  am  just 
going  to  get  some  dinner ;  will  you  go  with  me  ?  " 

"  I  have  no  money." 

"  I  have,  and  that  will  answer  the  purpose  for  this 
time.  We  will  go  back  to  Fulton  Street." 

Ben  turned  back  thankfully,  and  with  his  comp*,, 
ion  entered  the  very  restaurant  in  which  he  had 
dined  the  day  before. 

"  If  you  are  faint,  soup  will  be  the  best  thing  for 
you  to  begin  on,"  said  the  young  man ;  and  he  gave 
an  order  to  the  waiter. 

Nothing  had  ever  seemed  more  delicious  to  Ben 
than  that  soup.  When  he  had  done  justice  to  it,  a 
plate  of  beefsteak  awaited  him,  which  also  received 
his  attention.  Then  he  was  asked  to  select  some 
dessert. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  are  spending  too  much  for  me," 
^e  said. 

"  Don't  be  afraid  of  that ;  I  am  glad  that  you  have 
a  good  appetite." 

At  length  the  dinner  was  over.  Ben  felt  decidedly 
better.  His  despondency  had  vanished,  and  the 
world  again  seemed  bright  to  him.  It  is  hard  to 


BEN,    THE  LUGQAGB   BOY;    OJJ, 

be  cheerful,  or  take  bright  views  of  life  on  an  empty 
stomach,  as  many  have  learned  beside  our  young 
adventurer. 

kt  Now,"  said  his  new-found  friend,  "  I  have  a  few 
minutes  to  spare.  Suppose  we  talk  over  your  plans 
and  prospects,  and  see  if  we  can  find  anything  for 
you  to  do." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Ben ;  "  I  wish  you  would  giye 
me  your  advice." 

"  My  advice  is  that  you  return  to  your  home,  if 
you  have  one,"  said  the  reporter. 

Ben  shook  his  head. 

"  I  don't  want  to  do  that,"  he  answered, 

"  I  don't,  of  course,  know  what  is  your  objection  to 
this,  which  seems  to  me  the  best  course.  Putting  it 
aside,  however,  we  will  consider  what  you  can  do 
here  to  earn  your  living." 

"  That  is  what  I  want  to  do." 

"  How  would  you  like  selling  papers?" 

*'  1  think  I  should  like  it,"  said  Ben  ;  "  but  I  have 
no  money  to  buy  any." 

•*  It  doesn't  require  a  very  large  capital.  I  will  lend 
you*  or  give  you,  the  small  amount  which  will  bo 


AMONG   THE    WHARVES.  91 

necessary.  However,  you  mustn't  expect  to  make  a 
very  large  income." 

"  If  I  can  make  enough  to  live  on,  I  won't  care," 
said  Ben. 

He  had  at  first  aimed  higher ;  but  his  short  resi- 
dence in  the  city  taught  him  that  he  would  be  for- 
tunate to  meet  his  expenses.  There  are  a  good  many 
besides  Ben  who  have  found  their  early  expectation* 
of  success  considerably  modified  by  experience. 

"  Let  me  see.  It  is  half-past  one  o'clock,"  said 
the  reporter,  drawing  out  his  watch.  "  You  had  bet- 
ter lay  in  a  supply  of '  Expresses '  and 4  Evening  Posts,' 
and  take  a  good  stand  somewhere,  and  do  your  best 
with  them.  As  you  are  inexperienced  in  the  business 
it  will  be  well  to  take  a  small  supply  at  first,  or  you 
might  get  *  stuck.' " 

-That's  so." 

"  You  must  not  lay  in  more  than  you  can  sell." 

"  Where  can  I  get  the  papers  ?  " 

"  I  will  go  with  you  to  the  newspaper  offices,  and 
buy  you  half  a  dozen  of  each.  If  you  succeed  in  sell- 
ing them,  you  can  buy  more.  To-morrow  you  can 
lay  in  some  of  the  morning  papers,  the  *  Herald, 


92  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE  BOY;   OA, 

4  World/  4  Tribune/ or  «  Times/  It  will  be  well  also 
to  have  a  few  '  Suns '  for  those  who  do  not  care  to 
pay  for  the  higher-priced  papers." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Ben,  who  was  eager  to  begin 
his  business  career. 

Tney  rose  from  the  table,  and  set  out  for  the 
offices    of  the  two  evening  papers    whose 
have  been  mentioned. 


AMONG   THE    WHARVES.  93 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

BEN   COMMENCES   HIS   BUSINESS   CAREER. 

x 

BEN  soon  took  his  stand  in  the  street,  with  a  roll 
of  papers  under  his  arm,  supplied  by  the  generosity 
>f  his  new  acquaintance.  It  was  rather  a  trying 
ordeal  for  a  country  boy,  new  to  the  city  and  its 
ways.  But  Ben  was  not  bashful.  He  was  not  a 
timid  boy,  but  was  fully  able  to  push  his  way.  So, 
glancing  at  the  telegraphic  headings,  he  began  to  call 
out  the  news  in  a  business-like  way.  He  had  already 
taken  notice  of  how  the  other  newsboys  acted,  and 
therefore  was  at  no  loss  how  to  proceed. 

He  met  with  very  fair  success,  selling  out  the 
twelve  papers  which  had  been  bought  for  him,  in  a 
comparatively  short  time.  It  might  have  been  that 
the  fact  that  he  was  neater  and  better  dressed  operated 
in  his  favor.  At  any  rate,  though  a  new  hand,  he  suc- 
ceeded better  than  those  who  were  older  in  the  busi- 
ness. 


9*  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE   BOY;   OR, 

liut  his  neat  dress  operated  to  his  disadvantage  ia 
another  quarter.  His  business  rivals,  who  were,  with 
scarcely  an  exception,  dressed  with  no  great  preten- 
sions to  style  or  neatness,  looked  upon  the  interloper 
with  a  jealous  eye.  They  regarded  him  as  "  stuck 
up,"  in  virtue  of  his  superior  dress,  and  were  indig- 
nant to  find  their  sales  affected  by  his  competition. 

"Who's  he?  Ever  seen  him  afore?  "asked  Tim 
Banks  of  a  newsboy  at  his  side. 

"  No ;  he's  a  new  chap." 

"  What  business  has  he  got  to  come  here  and 
steal  away  our  trade,  I'd  like  to  know  ? "  continued 
Tim,  eying  Ben  with  no  friendly  glance. 

At  that  moment  a  gentleman,  passing  Tim,  bought 
an  "  Evening  Post"  of  Ben.  It  was  the  third  paper 
that  Ben  had  sold  since  Tim  had  effected  a  sale. 
This  naturally  increased  his  indignation. 

"  He's  puttin'  on  airs  just  because  he's  got  good 
clo'es,"  said  the  other  newsboy,  who  shared  Tim's 
feelings  on  the  subject. 

"  Let's  shove  him  out,"  suggested  Tim. 

"All  right." 

Tim,  who  was  a  boy  of  twelve,  with  a  shock  head, 


AMONO    THE    WHARVES.  95 

which  looked  as  if  it  had  never  been  combed,  and  a 
suit  of  clothes  which  bore  the  marks  of  severe  usage, 
advanced  to  Ben,  closely  followed  by  his  confederate, 
who  had  agreed  to  back  him. 

Ben  had  just  sold  his  last  paper  when  the  two 
approached  him.  He  did  not  understand  their  object 
until  Tim,  swaggering  up  to  him,  said  offensively, 
"  You'd  better  clear  out ;  you  aint  wanted  here." 

Ben  turned  and  faced  his  ragged  opponent  with 
intrepidity. 

"  Why  aint  I  wanted  here  ?  "  he  inquired,  without 
manifesting  the  least  symptom  of  alarm. 

Tim  rather  anticipated  that  Ben  would  show  the 
white  feather,  and  was  a  little  surprised  at  his  calm 
ness. 

"  Cause  yer  aint,  that's  why,"  he  answered. 

"  If  you  don't  like  my  company,  you  can  go  some- 
where else,"  said  Ben. 

"  This  is  my  place,"  said  Tim.  "  You  aint  got  no 
right  to  push  in." 

"  If  it's  your  place,  how  much  did  you  pay  for 
it?"  asked  Ben.  "  I  thought  that  the  sidewalk  waft 
free  to  all." 


96  BEN,    THE   LUGGAGE  BOY;    o*, 

44  You  aint  got  no  right  to  interfere  with  my  busi- 
ness." 

"  I  didn't  know  that  I  had  interfered  with  it." 

44  Well,  you  have.  I  aint  sold  more'n  half  as 
many  papers  since  you've  been  here." 

"  You've  got  the  same  chance  as  I  have,"  said 
Ben.  "  I  didn't  tell  them  not  to  buy  of  you." 

"Well,  you  aint  wanted  here,  and  you'd  better 
make  tracks,"  said  Tim,  who  considered  this  the  best 
argument  of  all. 

44  Suppose  I  don't,"  said  Ben. 

44  Then  I'll  give  you  a  lickin'." 

Ben  surveyed  the  boy  who  uttered  this  threat,  in 
the  same  manner  that  a  general  would  examine  an 
opposing  force,  with  a  view  to  ascertain  his  strength 
and  ability  to  cope  with  him.  It  was  clear  that  Tim 
was  taller  than  himself,  and  doubtless  older.  As  to 
being  stronger,  Ben  did  not  feel  so  positive.  He  was 
himself  well  and  compactly  made,  and  strong  of  his 
age.  He  did  not  relish  the  idea  of  being  imposed 
upon,  and  prepared  to  resist  any  encroachment  upon 
his  rights.  He  did  not  believe  that  Tim  had  any 
right  to  order  him  off.  He  felt  that  the  sidewalk  was 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  97 

jusfc  as  free  to  him  as  to  any  other  boy,  and  he  made 
up  his  mind  to  assert  and  maintain  his  right. 

"  If  you  want  to  give  me  a  licking,  just  try  it," 
he  said.  "  I've  got  just  as  much  right  to  stand  here 
and  sell  papers  as  you  have,  and  I'm  going  to  do  it." 

"  You  needn't  be  so  stuck  up  jest  because  you've 
got  good  clo'es  on." 

"If  they  are  good,  I  can't  help  it."  said  Ben. 
"  They're  all  I  have,  and  they  won't  be  good  long." 

"  Maybe  I  could  get  good  clo'es  if  I'd  steal  em," 
»*id  Tim. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  I  stole  these?  "  retorted  Ben, 
angrily.  He  had  no  sooner  said  it,  however,  than  he 
thought  of  the  pies  which  he  should  have  stolen  if  he 
had  not  been  detected,  and  his  face  flushed.  Luck- 
ily Tim  did  not  know  why  his  words  produced  an 
effect  upon  Ben,  or  he  would  have  followed  up  his 
attack. 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  said  Tim. 

"Then  you  judge  me  by  yourself,"  said  Ben* 
«  that's  all  I've  got  to  say." 

"  Say  that  ag*in,"  said  Tim,  menacingly. 
7 


>    THE   LU3GAGE  BOY;    ttB, 

"  So  I  will,  if  you  want  to  hear  it.  You  judge  me 
by  yourself." 

"  I'll  give  you  a  lickin'." 

"  You've  said  that  before." 

Tim  was  not  particularly  brave.  Still  Ben  was  a 
smaller  boy,  and  besides  he  had  a  friend  at  hand  to 
back  him,  so  he  concluded  that  it  would  be  safe  to  ven- 
ture. Doubling  up  a  dirty  fist,  he  struck  out,  intend- 
ing to  hit  Ben  in  the  face ;  but  our  young  adventurer 
was  on  his  guard,  and  fended  off  the  blow  with  his 
arms. 

"  Will  yer  go  now?"  demanded  Tim,  pausing  after 
his  attack. 

"Why  should  I?" 

"  If  you  don't  I'll  give  you  another  lick." 

"  I  can  stand  it,  if  it  isn't  any  worse  than  that." 

Tim  was  spurred  by  this  to  renew  the  assault- 
He  tried  to  throw  his  arms  around  Ben,  and  lift  him 
from  the  ground,  which  would  enable  him  to  throw 
him  with  greater  ease.  But  Ben  was  wary,  and 
experienced  in  this  mode  of  warfare,  having  often 
had  scuffles  in  fun  with  his  school-fellows.  He 
evaded  Tim's  grasp,  therefore,  and  dealt  him  a  blow 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  93 

IB  tLc  breast,  which  made  Tim  stagger  back.  He 
began  to  realize  that  Ben,  though  a  smaller  boy,  was 
a  formidable  opponent,  and  regretted  that  he  had 
undertaken  a  contest  with  him.  He  was  constrained 
to  appeal  to  his  companion  for  assistance. 

"  Just  lend  a  hand,  Jack,  and  we'll  give  it  to  him." 

"  So  you  have  to  ask  help,"  said  Ben,  scornfully, 
"  though  you're  bigger  than  I  am." 

"  I  could  lick  yer  well  enough  alone,"  said  Tim, 
"  but  you've  been  interferin*  with  Jack's  business,  aa 
well  as  mine." 

Jack  responded  to  his  friend's  appeal,  and  the  two 
advanced  to  the  assault  of  Ben.  Of  course  all  this 
took  place  much  more  quickly  than  it  has  taken  to 
describe  it.  The  contest  commenced,  and  our  young 
adventurer  would  have  got  the  worst  of  it,  if  help 
had  not  arrived.  Though  a  match  for  either  of  the 
boys  singly,  he  could  not  be  expected  to  cope  with 
both  at  a  time,  especially  as  he  was  smaller  than 
either. 

Tim  found  himself  seized  forcibly  by  the  arm,  just 
as  he  was  about  to  level  a  blow  at  Ben.  Looking  up, 
he  met  the  glance  of  another  newsboy,  a  boy  of  four 


tOO  BEN,    THE   LUGGAGE   BOY;   OJt, 

teen,  who  was  known  among  his  comrades  as  "  Rough 
and  Heady/'  This  boy  was  stout  and  strong,  and 
was  generally  liked  by  those  of  his  class  for  his  gen- 
erous qualities,  as  well  as  respected  for  his  physical 
strength,  which  he  was  always  ready  to  exert  in 
defence  of  a  weaker  boy. 

"  What's  all  this,  Tim?  "  he  demanded.  "  Aint  you 
Ashamed,  the  two  of  you,  to  pitch  into  a  smaller 
boy?" 

"  He  aint  got  no  business  here,"  said  Tim,  doggedly. 

"  Why  not? " 

"  He's  takin*  away  all  our  trade." 

"Hasn't  he  just  as  much  right  to  sell  papers  aa 
you?" 

"  He  can  go  somewhere  else." 

"  So  can  you." 

"  He's  a  new  boy.  This  is  the  first  day  he's  sold 
papers." 

"  Then  you  ought  to  be  able  to  keep  up  with  him. 
What's  your  name,  young  un  ?  " 

This  question,  was  of  course,  addressed  to  Ben. 

"Ben,"  answered  our  young  hero.  He  did  not 
think  it  necessary  to  mention  his  other  name,  espe- 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  101 

cially  as,  having  run  away  from  home,  he  had  a  vague 
idea  that  it  might  lead  to  his  discovery. 

"  Well,  Ben,  go  ahead  and  sell  your  papers.     I'll 
see  that  you  have  fair  play." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Ben.    "  I'm  not  afraid  of  either 
of  them." 

"  Both  of  them  might  be  too  much  for  you." 
•"I  don't  want  to  interfere  with  their  business. 
They've  got  just  as  good  a  chance  to  sell  as  I 
have." 

u  Of  course  they  have.    Is  this  your  first  day?" 

"Yes." 

"  How  many  papers  have  you  sold  ?  " 

"  Six  '  Posts '  and  six  « Expresses.' " 

"  That's  pretty  good  for  a  beginning.     Are  you 
going  to  get  some  more  ?  " 

"  "Yes,  I  was  just  going  into  the  office  when  that 
boy,"  pointing  to  Tim,  "  tried  to  drive  me  off." 

"  He  won't  do  it  again.     Come  in  with  me.    I'm 
going  to  buy  some  papers  too." 

"  What's  your  name  ?  "  asked  Ben.     "  I  like  yon  \ 
you're  not  mean,  like  those  fellows." 


102  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE  BOY;   OR, 

' t  My  name  is  Rufus,  but  the  boys  call  me  Rough 
and  Ready." 

u  Where  do  you  live, —  at  the  Newsboys*  Lodging 
House?" 

"  No,  I  live  in  Leonard  Street.  I've  got  a  mother 
and  a  little  sister.  I  live  with  them." 

"  Have  you  got  a  father?  " 

"  No,  that  is,  not  a  real  father.  I've  got  a  step- 
father ;  but  he's  worse  than  none,  for  he  is  loafing 
round  most  of  the  time,  and  spends  all  the  money  he 
can  get  on  drink.  If  it  wasn't  for  me,  he'd  treat 
mother  worse  than  he  does.  How  long  have  you 
been  in  New  York?" 

"  Only  a  day  or  two,"  said  Ben. 

"  Where  are  you  living?  " 

"  Anywhere  I  can.     I  haven't  got  any  place." 

"  Where  did  you  sleep  last  night  ?  " 

"  In  a  hay-barge,  at  one  of  the  piers,  along  with  a 
!x>ot-black  named  Jerry.  That  was  the  first  night  I 
•ver  slept  out." 

4  How  did  you  like  it?" 

"  I  think  I'd  prefer  a  bed,"  said  Ben. 
'  You  can  get  one  at  the  Lodge  for  six  cents." 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  103 

"  1  didn't  have  six  cents  last  night." 

"  They'll  trust  you  there,  and  you  can  pay  next 
time." 

u  Where  is  the  Lodging  House?" 

"  It's  on  the  corner  of  this  street  and  Fulton,"  said 
Rough  and  Beady.  "  I'll  show  it  to  you,  if  you 
want  ine  too." 

"I'd  like  to  have  you.  I'd  rather  pay  six  cents 
than  sleep  out  again." 

By  this  time  they  reached  the  office  of  the  "  Ex- 
press," and,  entering,  purchased  a  supply  of  papers. 
He  was  about  to  invest  his  whole  capital,  but,  by  the 
advice  of  his  companion,  bought  only  eight  copies,  as 
by  the  time  these  were  disposed  of  a  later  edition 
would  be  out,  which  of  course  would  be  more  salable. 


104  BEN>    THE  LUGGAGE  BOY;    OJ8, 


CHAPTER    IX. 

SCENES   AT   THE   NEWSBOYS     LODGING  HOUSE. 

IT  will  be  unnecessary  to  give  in  detail  the  record 
of  Ben's  sales.  He  succeeded,  because  he  was  in 
earnest,  and  he  was  in  earnest,  because  his  own  ex- 
perience in  the  early  part  of  the  day  had  revealed  to 
him  how  uncomfortable  it  was  to  be  without  money 
or  friends  in  a  large  city.  At  seven  o'clock,  on 
counting  over  his  money,  he  found  that  he  had  a  dol- 
lar and  twelve  cents.  Of  this  sum  he  had  received 
half  a  dollar  from  the  friendly  reporter,  to  start  him 
in  business.  This  left  sixty-two  cents  as  his  net 
profits  for  the  afternoon's  work.  Ben  felt  proud  of 
it,  for  it  was  the  first  money  he  had  ever  earned. 
His  confidence  came  back  to  him,  and  he  thought  he 
saw  his  way  clear  to  earning  his  own  living. 

Although  the  reporter  had  not  exacted  repayment, 
Ben  determined  to  lay  aside  fifty  cents  for  that  pur- 
pose. Of  the  remaining  sixty-two,  a  part  must  be 


AMONG    THE    W&AR7ES.  105 

saved  as  a  fund  for  the  purchase  of  papers  the  next 
morning.  Probably  thirty  cents  would  be  sufficient 
for  this,  as,  after  selling  out  those  first  purchased,  he 
would  have  money  for  a  new  supply.  This  would 
leave  him  thirty-two  cents  to  pay  for  his  supper, 
lodging,  and  breakfast.  Ben  would  not  have  seen  his 
way  to  accomplish  all  this  for  so  small  a  sum,  if  he 
had  not  been  told  that  at  the  Newsboys'  Lodge  the 
regular  charge  was  six  cents  for  each  meal,  and  the 
same  for  lodging.  This  would  make  but  eighteen 
cents,  leaving  him  a  surplus  of  fourteen.  On  inquiry, 
however,  he  ascertained  that  it  was  already  past  the 
hour  for  supper  at  the  Lodge,  and  therefore  went 
into  the  restaurant,  on  Fulton  Street,  where  he 
ordered  a  cup  of  coffee,  and  a  plate  of  tea-biscuit. 
These  cost  ten  cents.  Finding  his  appetite  still  un- 
satisfied, he  ordered  another  plate  of  biscuit,  which 
carried  up  the  expense  of  his  supper  to  fifteen  cents. 
This  left  seventeen  cents  for  lodging  and  breakfast. 

After  supper,  he  went  out  into  the  street  once 
more,  and  walked  about  for  some  time,  until  he  began 
to  feel  tired,  when  he  turned  his  steps  towards  the 
Newsboys'  Lodge.  This  institution  occupied  at  that 


106  BEN)    THE  LUGGAGE  BOY;   (XR, 

time  the  two  upper  stories  of  the  building  at  the  cor» 
ner  of  Nassau  and  Fulton  Streets.  On  the  first  floor 
was  the  office  of  the  "  Daily  Sun."  The  entrance  to 
the  Lodge  was  on  Fulton  Street.  Ben  went  up  a 
steep  and  narrow  staircase,  and  kept  mounting  up 
until  he  reached  the  sixth  floor.  Here  to  the  left  he 
saw  a  door  partially  opened,  through  which  he  couU! 
see  a  considerable  number  of  boys,  whose  appearance 
indicated  that  they  belonged  to  the  class  known  as 
street  boys.  He  pushed  the  door  open  and  entered. 
He  found  himself  in  a  spacious,  but  low-studded 
apartment,  abundantly  lighted  by  rows  of  windows 
on  two  sides.  At  the  end  nearest  the  door  was  a 
raised  platform,  on  which  stood  a  small  melodeon, 
which  was  used  at  the  Sunday-evening  meetings. 
There  were  rows  of  benches  in  the  centre  of  the 
apartment  for  the  boys. 

A  stout,  pleasant-looking  man,  who  proved  to  be 
Mr.  O'Connor,  the  superintendent,  advanced  to  meet 
Ben,  whom  he  at  once  recognized  as  a  new-comer. 

"Is  this  the  Newsboys'  Lodge?"  asked  Ben. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  superintendent ;  "  do  you  wish  to 
r"v  with  us?" 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  107 

"  I  should  like  to  sleep  here  to-night,"  said  Ben. 

"  You  are  quite  welcome." 

"  How  much  do  you  charge? " 

44  Our  charge  is  six  cents." 

"  Here  is  the  money,"  said  Ben,  drawing  it  from 
4is  vest-pocket. 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  H 

"  Benjamin." 

M  And  your  other  name?" 

"  Brandon,"  answered  Ben,  with  some  hesitation. 

"  What  do  you  do  for  a  living?  " 

"  I  am  selling  papers." 

"  Well,  we  will  assign  you  a  bed." 

"  Where  are  the  beds?  "  asked  Ben,  looking  about 
Turn. 

11  They  are  on  the  floor  below.  Any  of  the  boyt 
will  go  down  and  show  you  when  you  get  ready  to 
retire." 

"  Can  I  get  breakfast  here  in  the  morning  ? " 
inquired  Ben. 

"  Certainly.  We  charge  the  same  as  for  Iddg- 
ing." 

Ben  handed  over  six  cents  additional,  and  congrafe 


108  BEN,    THK  LUGGAGE  BOY;   OR, 

ulated  himself  that  he  was  not  as  badly  off  as  the 
night  before,  being  sure  of  a  comfortable  bed,  and  a 
breakfast  in  the  morning. 

"What  are  those  for? "he  asked,  pointing  to  a 
row  of  drawers  or  lockers  on  the  sides  of  the  apart- 
ment near  the  floor. 

"Boys  who  have  any  extra  clothing,  or  any 
articles  which  they  value,  are  allowed  to  use  them. 
Here  they  are  safe,  as  they  can  be  locked.  "We  will 
assign  you  one  if  you  wish." 

"  I  have  nothing  to  put  away,"  said  Ben.  "  I  had  a 
little  bundle  of  clothes ;  but  they  were  stolen  from  me 
while  I  was  lying  asleep  on  a  bench  in  the  City  Hall 
Park." 

"I  suppose  you  don't  know  who  took  them?" 

"  No,"  said  Ben ;  "  but  I  think  it  was  some  of  the 
boys  that  were  blacking  boots  near  me. —  That  boy's 
got  one  of  them  on,"  he  said,  suddenly,  in  an  excited 
tone,  pointing  out  Mike,  the  younger  of  the  two 
boys  who  had  appropriated  his  bundle.  Mike  had 
,ocked  up  his  own  shirt,  which  was  considerably  the 
worse  for  wear,  and  put  on  Ben's,  which  gave  him  a 
decidedly  neater  appearance  than  before.  He  had 


AMONG   THS    WHARVES.  109 

^bought  himself  perfectly  safe  in  doing  so,  not  dream- 
ing that  he  would  be  brought  face  to  face  with  the 
true  owner  in  the  Lodge. 

"  What  makes  you  think  it  is  yours?"  asked  Mr. 
O'Connor. 

u  It  is  cut  like  mine,"  said  Ben.  "  Besides  I  remem- 
ber getting  a  large  spot  of  ink  on  one  of  the  sleeves, 
which  would  not  wash  out.  There  it  is,  on  the  left 
arm." 

As  Ben  had  said,  there  was  a  faint  bluish  spot  on 
the  sleeve  of  the  shirt.  This  made  Ben's  story  a  plau- 
sible one,  though  not  conclusive.  The  superinten- 
dent decided  to  inquire  of  Mike  about  the  matter, 
and  see  what  explanation  he  could  give. 

"  Mike  Rafferty,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  of  authority, 
•'  come  here  ;  I  want  you." 

Mike  came  forward,  but  when  he  saw  Ben,  whom 
be  recognized,  he  felt  a  little  taken  aback.  But  he 
had  not  been  brought  up  in  the  streets  for  nothing 
His  embarrassment  was  only  momentary.  He  deter- 
mined to  brazen  it  out,  and  swear,  if  anything  was 
said  about  the  shirt,  that  it  was  his  own  lawful  prop- 
erty. 


110  BEN,    THE  LUOQAOB  BOY;   OB, 

"  I  see  you've  got  a  new  shirt  on,  Mike,"  said  Mr. 
O'Connor. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Mike. 

«  Where  did  you  get  it?" 

"  Where  would  I  get  it  ?  "  said  Mike.  "  I  bought  it 
yesterday." 

"  Where  did  you  buy  it? ' 

"  Bound  in  Baxter  Street,"  said  Mike,  confidently* 

"  It  is  a  pretty  good  shirt  for  Baxter  Street," 
remarked  Mr.  O'Connor.  "  How  much  did  you  pay 
for  it?" 

"  Fifty  cents,"  answered  Mike,  glibly. 

"  This  may  all  be  true,  Mike,"  said  the  superin- 
tendent ;  "  but  I  am  not  certain  about  it.  This  boy 
here  says  it  is  his  shirt,  and  he  thinks  that  you  stole 
it  from  him  while  he  was  lying  asleep  in  City  Hall 
Park  yesterday." 

"  It's  a  lie  he's  tellin',  sir,"  said  Mike.  "  I  never 
seed  nim  afore." 

Here  seemed  to  be  a  conflict  of  evidence.  Of  the 
two  Ben  seemed  the  more  likely  to  tell  the  truth. 
Still  it  was  possible  that  he  might  be  mistaken,  and 
Mike  might  be  right  after  all. 


AMONG   THE    WHARVES.  Ill 

"  Have  you  any  other  proof  that  the  shirt  is  yours  ?  " 
asked  Mr.  O'Connor,  turning  to  Ben. 

"  Yes,"  said  Ben,  "  my  name  is  marked  on  the 
fihirt,  just  below  the  waist." 

"We  can  settle  the  matter  quickly  then.  Mike, 
pull  out  the  shirt,  so  that  we  can  see  it." 

Mike  made  some  objection,  which  was  quickly 
overruled.  The  shirt,  being  examined,  bore  the  name 
of  "  Benj.  Brandon,"  just  as  Ben  had  said. 

"  The  shirt  is  yours,"  said  the  superintendent  to 
Ben. 

"  Now,  Mike,  what  did  you  mean  by  telling  me 
that  lie  ?  It  was  bad  enough  to  steal,  without  adding 
a  lie  besides." 

"  I  bought  the  shirt  in  Baxter  Street,"  persisted 
Mike,  unblushingly. 

"  Then  how  do  you  account  for  his  name  on  it?M 

"  Maybe  he  sold  it  to  the  man  I  bought  it  of." 

"  I  didn't  sell  it  at  all,"  said  Ben. 

"  Was  that  all  you  had  taken  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Ben.  "There  was  another  shirt 
besides." 

14  Do  you  know  anything  about  it,  Mike  ?  " 


112  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE  BOJT j   OA, 

"  No,  I  don't,"  said  Mike. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  you  are  telling  the  truth  or 
not,"  said  the  superintendent ;  "  but  at  any  rate  you 
must  take  this  off,  and  give  it  to  the  right  owner." 

"  And  will  he  pay  me  the  fifty  cents  ? "  asked 
Mike. 

"  I  don't  think  you  bought  it  at  all ;  but  if  you  did, 
you  can  prove  it  by  the  man  you  bought  it  of.  If  you 
can  do  that,  I  will  see  that  the  money  is  refunded  to 
you." 

There  was  one  strong  reason  for  discrediting 
Mike's  story.  These  Baxter-Street  shops  are  often 
the  receptacles  of  stolen  goods.  As  their  identifi- 
cation might  bring  the  dealers  into  trouble,  they  are 
very  careful,  as  soon  -as  an  article  comes  into  their 
possession,  to  obliterate  all  the  marks  of  former  own- 
ership. It  was  hardly  likely  that  they  would  suffer 
a  shirt  to  go  out  of  their  Lands  so  plainly  marked  as 
was  the  case  in  the  present  instance.  Mr.  O'  Connor, 
of  course,  knew  this,  and  accordingly  had  very  little 
fear  that  he  was  doing  injustice  to  Mike  in  ordering 
tim  to  make  restitution  to  Ben. 

Mike  was  forced,  considerably  against  his  will,  to 


AMONO    THE    WHARVES.  115- 

take  off  the  new  shirt,  and  put  on  his  old  ragged  one 
But  the  former  was  no  longer  as  clean  as  formerly. 

"  Where  can  I  get  it  washed?  "  asked  Ben. 

"  You  can  wash  it  yourself,  in  the  wash-room,  01 
you  can  carry  it  to  a  laundry,  as  some  of  the  boys 
do,  if  you  are  willing  to  pay  for  it." 

"  I  think  I  would  rather  carry  it  to  a  laundry," 
said  Ben,  who  doubted  strongly  his  ability  to  waah 
the  shirt  so  as  to  improve  its  appearance.  The 
guperintendent  accordingly  gave  him  the  direction  ta 
one  of  these  establishments. 

Opposite  the  room  which  he  had  entered  was  a 
smaller  room  used  by  the  boys  as  a  gymnasium.. 
Ben  looked  into  it,  and  determined  to  use  it  on  some 
future  occasion.  He  next  went  into  the  wash-room. 
Here  he  saw  two  or  three  boys,  stripped  to  the  waist, 
engaged  in  washing  out  their  shirts.  Being  pro- 
vided with  but  a  single  one  each,  they  left  them 
to  dry  over  night  while  they  were  in  bed,  and  could 
dispense  with  them.  Ben  wondered  how  they  man- 
aged about  ironing  them ;  but  he  soon  found  that  with 
these  amateur  laundresses  ironing  was  not  consid- 
ered necessary.  They  are  put  on  rough-dry  in  the 


114  BEN,    THS   LUGGAGE   BOY;    OR, 

morning,  and  so  worn  until  they  are  considered  dirty 
enough  for  another  purification. 

Ben  looked  about  him  with  interest.  The  boys 
were  chatting  in  an  animated  manner,  detailing  their 
experiences  during  the  day,  or  "  chaffing  "  each  other 
in  a  style  peculiar  to  themselves. 

"  Say,  Jim,"  said  one,  "  didn't  I  see  you  at  the 
Grand  Opera  last  night?" 

"  Yes,  of  course  you  did,"  said  Jim.  "  I  was  in 
»  private  box  along  with  the  mayor.  I  had  a  di'inond 
pin  in  the  bosom  of  my  shirt." 

"  Yes,  I  seed  you  through  my  opera-glass.  What 
have  you  done  with  your  diamond  pin  ?  " 

"  Do  you  think  Fd  bring  it  here  to  be  stole?  No, 
I  keep  it  in  my  safe,  along  of  my  other  valooables." 

Ben  listened  in  amusement,  and  thought  that  Jim 
would  have  cut  rather  a  singular  figure  in  the  may- 
or's box. 

Several  boys,  who  had  gone  barefoot,  were  wash- 
ing their  feet,  that  being  required  previous  to  going 
to  bed.  This  is  necessary ;  otherwise  the  clean  bed- 
clothes would  be  so  soiled  as  to  require  daily  wash* 
Ing 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  115 

The  boys  seemed'  to  be  having  a  good  time,  and 
then,  though  he  was  unacquainted  with  any  of  them, 
felt  that  it  was  much  pleasanter  to  be  here,  in  a  social 
atmosphere,  than  wandering  around  by  himself  'in 
the  dark  and  lonely  streets.  He  observed  one  thing 
with  surprise,  that  the  boys  refrained  from  profane  or 
vulgar  speech,  though  they  were  by  no  means  so  par- 
ticular IL  the  street  during  the  day.  This  is,  how- 
ever, a  rule  strictly  enforced  by  the  superintendent, 
and,  if  not  complied  with,  the  offender  is  denied  the 
privilege  of  the  Lodging  House. 

After  a  while  Ben  expressed  a  desire  to  go  to  bed. 
and  in  company  with  one  of  the  boys  descended  to  a 
room  equally  large,  in  the  story  below,  where  over 
a  hundred  single  beds  were  arranged  in  tiers,  in  a 
manner  very  similar  to  the  berths  of  a  steamboat. 
Ben  was  agreeably  surprised  by  the  neat  and  com- 
fortable appearance  of  these  beds.  He  felt  that  he 
should  be  nearly  as  well  provided  for  as  at  home4 
Quickly  undressing  himself,  he  jumped  into  the  bed 
assigned  him,  and  in  a  few  minutes  was  fast  asleep. 


4 16  BEN>    THE  LUGGAGE  BOY;   O3, 


CHAPTER    X. 

FURTHER  EXPERIENCES. 

BEN  had  a  comfortable  night's  rest,  and  when  hf 
awoke  in  the  morning  he  felt  that  a  bed  at  the  News- 
boys' Lodge  was  considerably  bettei  than  a  bale  of 
cotton,  or  a  hay-barge.  At  an  early  hour  in  the 
morning  the  boys  were  called,  and  began  to  tumble 
out  in  all  directions,  interchanging,  as  they  performed 
their  hasty  toilet,  a  running  fire  of  "  chaff"  and  good- 
humored  jesting,  some  of  which  consisted  of  personal 
allusions  the  reverse  of  complimentary. 

Many  of  the  boys  stopped  to  breakfast,  but  not  all. 
Some  wanted  to  get  to  work  earlier,  and  took  breakfast 
at  a  later  hour  at  some  cheap  restaurant,  earning  it 
before  they  ate  it.  Ben,  however,  had  paid  for  hia 
breakfast  in  advance,  knowing  that  he  could  not  get 
it  so  cheap  elsewhere,  and  so  waited  to  partake  of  it. 
He  took  his  place  at  a  long  table  with  his  compan- 
ions, and  found  himself  served  with  a  bowl  of  coffee 


AMONG   THE    WHARVES  11"* 

anJ  a  generous  slice  of  bread.  Sometimes,  but  no* 
always,  a  little  cold  meat  is  supplied  in  addition. 
But  even  when  there  is  bread  only,  the  coffee  warms 
the  stomach,  and  so  strengthens  the  boys  for  their 
labors  outside.  The  breakfast  was  not  as  varied,  of 
course,  as  Ben  had  been  accustomed  to  at  home,  noi 
as  tempting  as  my  young  readers  have  spread  before 
them  every  morning ;  but  it  was  good  of  its  kind,  and 
Ben  ate  it  with  unusual  relish. 

When  he  had  finished  his  meal,  he  prepared  to  go 
out  to  work ;  not,  however,  till  the  superintendent, 
whose  recollection  of  individual  boys  is  surprising, 
considering  the  large  number  who  frequent  the  Lodg- 
ing House  in  the  course  of  a  year,  had  invited  him  to 
come  again.  The  Lodging  House,  though  it  cannot 
supply  the  place  of  a  private  home,  steps  between 
hundreds  of  boys  and  complete  vagabondage,  into 
which,  but  for  its  existence,  they  would  quickly  lapse. 
Probably  no  money  is  more  wisely  expended  than 
that  which  enables  the  Children's  Aid  Society  oi  New 
York  to  maintain  this  and  kindred  institutions. 

Ben  had,  after  breakfast,  eighty-five  cents  to  com- 
mence the  day  on.  But  of  this  sum,  it  wil]  be  remen> 


118  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE   EOT;    Oft, 

bered,  he  had  reserved  fifty  cents  to  pay  the  friendly 
reporter  for  his  loan.  This  left  him  a  working  cap- 
ital of  thirty-five  cents.  It  was  not  a  large  sum  to 
do  business  on,  but  it  was  enough,  and  with  it  Ben 
felt  quite  independent. 

In  front  of  the  '  Times '  office,  Ben  met  Rough  and 
Ready,— the  newsboy  who  had  taken  his  part  the  day 
before.  He  had  got  the  start  of  Ben,  and  was  just 
disposing  of  his  only  remaining  paper. 

"  How  are  you?"  asked  Ben. 

"  So's  to  be  around,"  answered  the  other.  "  What 
are  you  up  to?" 

"  I'm  going  to  buy  some  papers." 

"  I  have  sold  eight  already.  Where  did  you  sleep 
last  night?" 

"  At  the  Lodging  House." 

"How  do  you  like  it?" 

"  It's  a  good  place,  and  very  cheap." 

"  Yes,  it's  a  bully  place.  I'd  go  there  myself,  if 
it  wasn't  for  mother  and  Rose,  It's  enough  sight 
better  than  our  room  on  Leonard  Street.  But  I  can't 
leave  my  mother  and  sister." 


AMONG   THE    WHARVES.  119 

"  If  you're  going  to  buy  some  more  papers,  I'd 
like  to  go  with  you." 

"  All  right.     Come  ahead." 

Ben  invested  his  money  under  the  direction  of  his 
companion.  By  his  advice,  he  purchased  nearly  to 
the  amount  of  his  entire  capital,  knowing  that  it  would 
come  back  to  him  again,  so  that  his  plan  for  paying 
the  reporter  could  still  be  carried  out. 

"  You  can  stand  near  me,  if  you  want  to,  Ben," 
said  Bough  and  Ready. 

"I  am  afraid  I  shall  interfere  with  your  trade," 
answered  Ben. 

"  Don't  be  afraid  of  that.  I  don't  ask  no  favors. 
I  can  get  my  share  of  business." 

Ben,  while  engaged  in  selling  papers  himself, 
nad  an  opportunity  to  watch  the  ready  tact  with 
which  Rough  and  Ready  adapted  himself  to  the  dif- 
ferent persons  whom  he  encountered.  He  succeeded 
*n  effecting  a  sale  in  many  cases  where  others  would 
have  failed.  He  had  sold  all  his  papers  before  Ben 
had  disposed  of  two-thirds  of  his,  though  both  began 
with  an  equal  number. 


1JJO  BEN,    THE   LUGGAGE    BOY;    OR, 

*;Here,  Ben,"  he  said,  generously,  "give  me  three 
of  your  papers,  I'll  sell  'em  for  you." 

By  tins  friendly  help,  Ben  found  himself  shortly 
ampty-handed. 

"  Shall  I  buy  any  more  ?  "  he  inquired  of  his  com- 
panion. 

"  It's  gettin*  late  for  mornin'  papers,"  said  Rough 
and  Ready.  "  You'd  better  wait  ill  the  evenin* 
papers  come  out.  How  much  money  have  you 
made?" 

Ben  counted  over  his  money,  and  answered, 
"  I've  made  thirty-five  cents." 

"  Well,  that'll  be  more'n  enough  to  buy  your 
-dinner." 

"  How  much  do  you  make  in  a  day  ?  "  a?Jwd  Ben. 

"  Sometimes  over  a  dollar." 

•"  You  ought  to  lay  up  money,  then." 

Rough  and  Ready  shook  his  head. 

"I  have  to  pay  everything  over  to  my  &sf]wtln 
he  said.  "  It's  little  enough  to  support  a  family." 

u  Doesn't  your  father  earn  anything?  " 

"  My  step-father,"  repeated  the  other,  emphasizing 
the  first  syllable.  "  No,  he  doesn't  earn  much,  and 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  121 

what  he  does  earn,  he  spends  for  rum.  We  could  do 
a  great  deal  better  without  him,"  he  continued. 

Ben  began  to  see  that  he  had  a  much  easier  vask 
before  him  in  supporting  himself,  than  his  new  friend 
in  supptying  the  wants  of  a  family  of  four ;  for  Mr. 
Martin,  his  step-father,  did  not  scruple  to  live  par- 
tially on  the  earnings  of  his  step-son,  whose  industry 
should  have  put  him  to  shame. 

"  I  guess  I'll  go  home  a  little  while,"  said  Bough 
and  Ready.  "  I'll  see  you  again  this  afternoon." 

Left  to  himself,  Ben  began  to  walk  around  with  an 
entirely  different  feeling  from  that  which  he  experi- 
enced the  day  before.  He  had  one  dollar  and  twenty 
cents  in  his  pocket ;  not  all  of  it  his  own,  but  the 
greater  part  of  it  his  own  earnings.  Only  twenty- 
four  hours  before  his  prospects  seemed  very  dark. 
Now  he  had  found  friends,  and  he  had  also  learned 
how  to  help  himself. 

As  he  was  walking  down  Nassani  Street,  he  sud- 
denly espied,  a  little  distance  ahead,  the  reporter  who 
had  done  him  such  an  important  service  the  day 
before. 


122  BEN,    THE   LUQGAOE   BOY ;    0/2, 

He  quickened  his  pace,  and  speedily  came  up  with 
him 

"  Good-morning,"  said  he,  by  way  of  calling  the 
reporter's  attention. 

"  Good-morning,"  responded  the  reporter,  not  at 
first  recognizing  him. 

"  I'm  ready  to  pay  the  money  you  lent  me  yester- 
day," said  Ben. 

"  Oh,  you're  the  boy  I  set  up  in  business  yester- 
day. Well,  how  have  you  made  out?  " 

"  Pretty  well,"  said  Ben,  with  satisfaction.  "  Here's 
the  money  you  lent  me  ;  "  and  he  drew  out  fifty  cents, 
and  offered  it  to  the  young  man. 

"  But  have  you  got  any  money  left?  "  inquired  the 
reporter. 

Ben  displayed  the  remainder  of  his  money,  men- 
tioning the  amount. 

"You've  succeeded  capitally.  Where  did  yoti 
sleep  last  night?" 

"  At  the  Newsboys'  Lodge." 

"That's  better  than  sleeping  out.  I  begin  to 
think,  my  young  friend,  you  must  have  a  decided 


AMONG   THE    WHARVES.  123 

business  talent.  It  isn't  often  a  new  boy  succeeds 
«o  well." 

Ben  was  pleased  with  this  compliment,  and  made 
a  new  offer  of  the  money,  which  the  young  man  had 
not  yet  taken. 

"  I  don't  know  as  I  had  better  take  this  money," 
•aid  the  reporter ;  "  you  may  need  it." 

"No,"  said  Ben,  "I've  got  enough  to  keep  me 
•long." 

"  You've  got  to  get  dinner." 

"That  won't  cost  me  more  than  twenty-five  cent* ; 
then  I  shall  have  forty-five  to  buy  papers  this  after- 
noon." 

"  Well,"  said  the  young  man,  "  if  you  doa't  need 
it,  I  will  take  it ;  but  on  one  condition." 

«  What  is  that?"  asked  Ben. 

"  That  if  you  get  hard  up  at  any  time,  you  will 
come  to  me,  and  I  will  help  you  out." 

4  Thank  you,"  said  Ben,  gratefully.  "  You  are 
*ery  kind." 

"  I  know  that  you  boys  are  apt  to  have  h*j*d  times ; 
but  if  you  work  faithfully  and  don't  form  any  bad 
habits,  I  think  you  will  get  along.  Here  is  my  card. 


124  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE   BOY;    O/f, 

und  directions  for  finding  me,  if  you  need  any  assist* 
ance  at  any  time." 

Ben  took  the  card,  and  went  on  his  way,  feeling 
more  glad  that  he  had  paid  his  debt  than  if  the  money 
were  still  in  his  possession.  He  felt  that  it  was  a 
partial  atonement  for  the  theft  which  he  had  nearly 
committed  the  day  before. 

As  he  walked  along,  thinking  of  what  he  had  just 
done,  he  suddenly  found  himself  shoved  violently  off 
the  sidewalk.  Looking  angrily  to  see  who  was  the 
aggressor,  he  recognized  Mike  Rafferty,  who  had 
been  detected  the  night  before  in  wearing  his  stolen 
ehirt. 

"  What's  that  for?"  demanded  Ben,  angrily. 

"  It's  to  tache  you  better  manners,  ye  spalpeen  I  " 
said  Mike. 

Ben  returned  the  blow  with  spirit. 

"  That's  to  teach  you  not  to  steal  my  shirt  again," 
he  said, 

"  It's  a  lie,"  said  Mike.  "  I  bought  it  of  the  man 
you  sold  it  to." 

"  You  know  better,"  retorted  Ben.  "  You  took  it 
virile  I  was  asleep  in  the  Park." 


AMONG   THE    WHARVES.  125 

Mike  was  about  to  retaliate  with  another  blow, 
»vhen  the  sight  of  an  approaching  policeman  warned 
him  of  peril,  and  he  retreated  in  good  order,  sending 
back  looks  of  defiance  at  our  hero,  whom  he  could 
not  forgive  for  having  proved  him  guilty  of  theft. 

Ben's  exploration  of  the  city  had  thus  far  been  very 
limited.  He  had  heard  of  the  Battery,  and  he  deter- 
mined to  go  down  there.  The  distance  was  not  great, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  he  found  himself  at  the  lower 
end  of  the  Manhattan  Island,  looking  with  interest  at 
the  shores  across  the  river.  Here  was  Castle  Garden, 
a  large  structure,  now  used  for  recently  arrived 
emigrants,  but  once  the  scene  of  one  of  Jenny  Lind'a 
triumphs.  Now  it  would  seem  very  strange  to  have  a 
grand  concert  given  in  such  a  building  and  in  such  a  lo- 
cality. However,  Ben  knew  nothing  of  the  purposes  of 
the  building,  and  looked  at  it  ignorantly.  The  Battery 
he  thought  might  once  harve  been  pretty  ;  but  now  the 
grass  has  been  worn  off  by  pedestrians,  and  the  once 
fashionable  houses  in  the  neighborhood  have  long 
ago  been  deserted  by  their  original  proprietors,  and 
been  turned  into  warehouses,  or  cheap  boarding* 
houses, 


126  BJWV,    THE   LUGGAGE   BOY;    OB, 

After  looking  about  a  little,  Ben  turned  to  go 
back.  He  began  to  feel  hungry,  and  thought  he 
might  as  well  get  some  dinner.  After  that  was  eaten 
it  would  be  time  for  the  evening  papers.  He  was 
intending  to  go  back  to  Fulton  Street ;  but  his  atten- 
tion was  drawn  to  a  restaurant  by  the  bills  of  fare 
exposed  outside.  A  brief  examination  satisfied  him 
that  the  prices  were  quite  as  moderate  as  in  Fulton 
Street,  and  he  decided  to  enter,  and  take  his  dinne; 

tat*. 


AMONG   THE    WHARVES.  127 


CHAPTER    XI. 

BEN  BECOMES   A   BAGGAGE-SMASHER. 

THE  restaurant  was  a  small  one,  and  not  fashion* 
able  in  appearance,  having  a  shabby  look.  The  floor 
was  sanded,  and  the  tables  were  covered  with  soiled 
cloths.  However,  Ben  had  learned  already  not  to  be 
fastidious,  and  he  sat  down  and  gave  his  order.  A 
plate  of  roast  beef  and  a  cup  of  coffee  were  brought, 
according  to  his  directions.  Seated  opposite  him  at 
the  table  was  a  man  who  had  nearly  completed  his 
dinner  as  Ben  commenced.  He  held  in  his  hand  a 
Philadelphia  paper,  which  he  left  behind  when  he 
rose  to  go. 

"  You  have  left  your  paper,"  said  Ben. 

"  I  have  read  it  through,"  was  the  reply.  "  1  don'* 
care  to  take  \y 

Ben  took  it  up,  and  found  it  to  be  a  daily  paper 
which  his  father  had  been  accustomed  to  take  for 
years,  It  gave  him  a  start,  as  he  saw  the  familial 


128  MEN)    THS   LUGGAGE   HOY,'    OR, 

page,  and  he  felt  a  qualm  of  homesickness.  The 
neat  house  in  whivii  he  had  lived  since  be  was  born, 
his  mother's  gentle  face,  rose  up  before  him,  com- 
pared with  his  present  friendless  condition,  and  the 
tears  rose  to  his  eyes.  But  he  was  in  a  public  res- 
taurant, and  his  pride  came  to  the  rescue.  He  pressed 
back  the  tears,  and  resumed  his  knife  and  fork. 

When  he  had  finished  his  dinner,  he  took  up  the 
paper  once  more,  reading  here  and  there.  At  last 
his  eye  rested  on  the  following  advertisement :  — 

"My  son,  Benjamin  Brandon,  having  run  away  from 
home  without  any  good  reason,  I  hereby  caution  the  public 
against  trusting  him  on  my  account ;  but  will  pay  the  sum 
of  one  dollar  and  necessary  expenses  to  any  person  who 
will  return  him  to  me.  He  is  ten  years  old,  well  grown  for 
his  age,  has  dark  eyes  and  a  dark  complexion.  He  was 
dressed  in  a  gray-mixed  suit,  and  had  on  a  blue  cap  when 

he  left  home. 

"  JAMES  BRANDON." 

Ben's  face  flushed  when  he  read  this  advertisement. 
It  was  written  by  his  father,  he  knew  well  enough, 
and  he  judged  from  the  language  that  it  was  written 
in  anger.  One  dollar  was  offered  for  his  restoration. 


AMONG    THE    WHARVE8.  129 

Ben  felt  somehow  humiliated  at  the  smallness  of 
the  sum,  and  at  the  thought  that  this  advertisement 
would  be  read  by  his  friends  and  school-companions. 
The  softer  thoughts,  which  but  just  now  came  to  him, 
were  banished,  and  he  determined,  whatever  hardships 
awaited  him,  to  remain  in  New  York,  and  support 
himself  as  he  had  begun  to  do.  But,  embittered  as 
he  felt  against  his  father,  he  felt  a  pang  when  he 
thought  of  his  mother.  He  knew  how  anxious  she 
would  feel  about  him,  and  he  wished  he  might  be  able 
to  write  her  privately  that  he  was  well,  and  doing 
well.  But  he  was  afraid  the  letter  would  get  into  his 
father's  hands,  and  reveal  his  whereabouts ;  then 
the  police  might  be  set  on  his  track,  and  he  might  be 
forced  home  to  endure  the  humiliation  of  a  severe 
punishment,  and  the  jeers  of  his  companions,  who 
would  never  let  him  hear  the  last  of  his  abortive 
attempt. 

At  last  a  way  occurred  to  him.  He  would  write 
a  letter,  and  place  it  in  the  hands  of  some  one  going 
to  Philadelphia,  to  be  posted  in  the  latter  city.  This 
would  give  no  clue  to  his  present  home,  and  would 
answer  the  purpose  of  relieving  his  mother's  anxiety. 

9 


ISO  BEN,    TRS   LUGGAGE   BO* ;    0.R, 

Late  in  the  afternoon,  Ben  went  into  a  stationery 
store  on  Nassau  Street. 

"  Will  you  give  me  a  sheet  of  paper,  and  an  enve- 
lope ?  "  he  asked,  depositing  two  cents  on  the  counter. 

Tha  articles  called  for  were  handed  him, 

"  Can  I  write  a  letter  here? "  inquired  Ben. 

"  You  can  go  round  to  that  desk,"  said  the  clerk ; 
"  you  will  find  pen  and  ink  there." 

Ben,  with  some  difficulty,  composed  and  wrote  the 
following  letter,  for  it  was  the  first  he  had  ever  had 
occasion  to  write :  — 

"  DEAR  MOTHER,  —  I  hope  you  will  not  feel  very 
bad  because  I  have  left  home.  Father  punished  me 
for  what  I  did  not  do,  and  after  that  I  was  not  will- 
ing to  stay ;  but  I  wish  I  could  see  you.  Don't  feel 
anxious  about  me,  for  I  am  getting  along  very  well, 
and  earning  my  own  living.  I  cannot  tell  you  where 
I  am,  for  father  might  find  out,  and  I  do  not  want  to 
come  back,  especially  after  that  advertisement.  1 
don't  think  my  going  will  make  much  difference  to 
father,  as  he  has  only  offered  one  dollar  reward  for 
me.  You  need  not  show  this  letter  to  him.  I  senJ 


AMONG    THE    WHAHVE8.  131 

you  my  love,  and  I  also  send  my  love  to  Mary,  though 
she  used  to  tease  me  sometimes.  And  now  I  must 
bid  you  good-by. 

"  From  your  affectionate  son, 

"BEN." 

After  completing  this  letter  Ben  put  it  in  the  enve- 
lope, and  directed  it  to 

"MBS.  RUTH  BRANDON, 

"  Cedarville, 

"  Pennsylvania" 

It  may  be  explained  that  the  Mary  referred  to  was 
an  elder  sister,  ten  years  older  than  Ben,  againsV, 
whom  he  felt  somewhat  aggrieved,  on  account  ol  nia 
sister's  having  interfered  with  him  more  than  he 
thought  she  had  any  right  to  do.  She  and  Ben  were 
the  only  children. 

If  I  were  to  express  my  opinion  of  this  letter  of 
Ben's,  I  should  say  that  it  was  wanting  in  proper 
feeling  for  the  mother  who  had  always  been  kind  and 
gentle  to  him,  and  whose  heart,  he  must  have  known, 
would  be  deeply  grieved  by  his  running  away  from 
home.  But  Ben's  besetting  sin  was  pride,  mingled 


132  BBN,    THE  LUGGAGE  SOT;   OJJ, 

with  obstinacy,  and  pride  prevailed  over  his  love  for 
Ms  mother.  If  he  could  have  known  of  the  bitter 
tears  which  his  mother  was  even  now  shedding  over 
her  lost  boy,  I  think  he  would  have  found  it  difficult 
to  maintain  his  resolution. 

When  the  letter  was  written,  Ben  went  across  to 
'the  post-office,  and  bought  a  three-cent  stamp,  which 
he  placed  on  the  envelope.  Then,  learning  that 
there  was  an  evening  train  for  Philadelphia,  he  went 
down  to  the  Cortlandt  Street  Ferry,  and  watched 
till  he  saw  a  gentleman,  who  had  the  air  of  a  travel- 
ler. Ben  stepped  up  to  him  and  inquired,  "  Are 
you  going  to  Philadelphia,  sir  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  la  1,"  was  the  answer ;  "  are  you  going 
there  also?" 

"No,  sir." 

"  I  thought  you  might  want  somebody  to  take 
charge  of  you.  Is  there  anything  I  can  do  for  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.  If  you  would  be  so  kind  as  to  post  this 
letter  in  Philadelphia." 

"  I  will  do  so ;  but  why  don't  you  post  it  in  New 
York  ?  It  will  go  just  as  well." 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  183 

"  The  person  who  wrote  it,"  said  Ben,  "  doesn't 
want  to  have  it  known  where  it  came  from." 

"  Very  well,  give  it  to  me,  and  I  will  see  that  it  is 
properly  mailed." 

The  gentleman  took  the  letter,  and  Ben  felt  glad 
that  it  was  written.  He  thought  it  would  relieve  hia 
mother's  anxiety, 

As  he  was  standing  on  the  pier,  a  gentleman  hay- 
ing a  carpet-bag  in  one  hand,  and  a  bundle  of  books 
in  the  other,  accosted  him. 

"  Can  you  direct  me  to  the  Astor  House,  boy  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Ben. 

Then,  with  a  sudden  thought,  he  added,  "  Shall  I 
carry  your  carpet-bag,  sir  ?  " 

"  On  the  whole  I  think  you  may,"  said  the  gentle- 
man. "  Or  stay,  I  think  you  may  take  this  parcel  of 
books." 

"  I  can  carry  both,  sir." 

"  No  matter  about  that.  I  will  carry  the  bag,  and 
you  shall  be  my  guide." 

Ben  had  not  yet  had  time  to  get  very  well 
acquainted  with  the  city ;  but  the  Astor  House,  which 
is  situated  nearly  opposite  the  lower  end  of  the 


BEN,    THE   LUGGAGE   BOY;    OR, 

Park,  he  had  passed  a  dozen  times,  and  knew 
the  way  to  it  very  well.  He  was  glad  that  the  gen- 
tlem&n  wished  to  go  there,  and  not  to  one  of  the  up- 
town Hotels,  of  which  he  knew  nothing.  He  went 
straight  up  Cortlandt  Street  to  Broadway,  and  then 
turning  north,  soon  arrived  at  the  massive  structure, 
which,  for  over  thirty  years,  has  welcomed  travellers 
from  all  parts  of  the  world. 

'*  This  is  the  Astor  House,  sir,"  said  Ben. 

"  I  remember  it  now,"  said  the  gentleman  ;  "  but  it 
is  ten  years  since  I  have  been  in  New  York,  and  I 
did  not  feel  quite  certain  of  finding  my  way.  Do  you 
live  in  New  York?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  You  may  give  me  the  package  now.  How  much 
shall  I  pay  you  for  your  services  ?  " 

"  Whatever  you  please,  sir,"  said  Ben. 

"Will  that  answer?"  and  the  traveller  placed 
twenty-five  cents  in  the  hands  of  our  young  hero. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Ben,  in  a  tone  of  satisfaction 
"  Thank  you." 

The  traveller  entered  the  hotel,  and  Ben  remained 
outside,  congratulating  himself  upon  his  good  luck. 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  13ft- 

"  That's  an  easy  way  to  earn  twenty  five  cents,** 
he  thought.  "  It  didn't  take  me  more  than  fifteen 
minutes  to  come  up  from  the  ferry,  and  I  should* 
have  to  sell  twenty-five  papers  to  make  so  much." 

This  sum,  added  to  what  he  had  made  during  the 
day  by  selling  papers,  and  including  what  he  had  on 
hand  originally,  made  one  dollar  and  thirty  cents.  But 
out  of  this  he  had  spent  twenty-five  cents  for  dinner, 
and  for  his  letter,  including  postage,  five  cents. 
Thus  his  expenses  had  been  thirty  cents,  which,  being 
deducted,  left  him  just  one  dollar.  Out  of  this,  how- 
ever, it  would  be  necessary  to  buy  some  supper,  and 
pay  for  his  lodging  and  breakfast  at  the  Newsboys* 
Home.  Fifteen  cents,  however,  would  do  for  the 
first,  while  the  regular  charge  for  the  second  would  be 
but  twelve  cents.  Ben  estimated,  therefore,  that  he 
would  have  seventy-three  cents  to  start  on  next  day. 
He  felt  that  this  was  a  satisfactory  state  of  finan- 
ces, and  considered  whether  he  could  not  afford  to 
spend  a  little  more  for  supper.  However,  not  feeling 
very  hungry,  he  concluded  not  to  do  so. 

The  next  morning  he  bought  papers  as  usual  and 
gold  them.  But  it  seemed  considerably  harder  work, 


136  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE   BOY;    <XB, 

for  the  money,  than  carrying  bundles.  However,  Ben 
foresaw  that  in  order  to  become  a  "  baggage-smasher  " 
(for  this  is  the  technical  term  by  which  the  boys  and 
men  are  known,  who  wait  around  the  ferries  and 
railway  depots  for  a  chance  to  carry  baggage,  though 
I  have  preferred  to  use  the  term  luggage  boy),  it 
would  be  necessary  to  know  more  about  localities  in 
the  city  than  he  did  at  present.  Accordingly  he 
devoted  the  intervals  of  time  between  the  selling  of 
papers,  to  seeking  out  and  ascertaining  the  locality 
of  the  principal  hotels  and  streets  in  the  city. 

In  the  course  of  a  fortnight  he  had  obtained  a  very 
fair  knowledge  of  the  city.  He  now  commenced  wait- 
ing at  the  ferries  and  depots,  though  he  did  not  im- 
mediately give  up  entirely  the  newspaper  trade.  But 
at  length  he  gave  it  up  altogether,  and  became  a 
44  baggage-smasher,"  by  profession,  or,  as  he  is  styled 
in  the  title  of  this  book,  a  luggage  boy. 

Thus  commences  a  new  page  in  his  history. 


AMONG    THE   WHARVES.  137 


CHAPTER    XII. 

BEN'S  HOME   IN   PHILADELPHIA. 

THOUGH  the  story  of  "  Ben,  the  Luggage  Boy," 
professes  to  treat  of  life  in  the  city  streets,  I  must 
devote  a  single  chapter  to  a  very  different  place.  I 
must  carry  the  reader  to  Ben's  home  in  Pennsylvania, 
and  show  what  effect  his  running  away  had  upon  the 
family  circle. 

There  was  a  neat  two-story  house  standing  on  the 
principal  street  in  Cedarville,  with  a  pleasant  lawn 
in  front,  through  which,  from  the  gate,  a  gravelled 
walk  ran  to  the  front  door.  Mr.  Brandon,  as  I  have 
already  said,  was  a  coal-dealer,  and  in  very  comfort- 
able circumstances ;  so  that  Ben  had  never  known 
what  it  was  to  want  anything  which  he  really  needed. 
He  was  a  man  of  great  firmness,  and  at  times  sever- 
ity, and  more  than  once  Ben  had  felt  aggrieved  by 
his  treatment  of  him.  Mrs.  Brandon  was  quite  dif- 
ferent from  her  husband,  being  gentle  and  kind,  and 


138  BEN,    THE   LUQOAGJS   BOY;    OJ2, 

it  was  to  her  that  Ben  always  went  for  sympathy,  in 
any  trouble  or  difficulty,  whether  at  home  or  at 
school. 

Mrs.  Brandon  was  sitting  at  the  window  with  her 
work  in  her  hand ;  but  it  had  fallen  listlessly  in  her 
lap,  and  on  her  face  was  a  look  of  painful  preoccupa- 
tion. Opposite  her  sat  her  daughter  Mary,  Ben's 
only  sister,  already  referred  to. 

"  Don't  worry  so,  mother,"  said  Mary  ;  "  you  will 
make  yourself  sick." 

"  I  cannot  help  it,  Mary,"  said  Mrs.  Brandon.  "  I 
can't  help  worrying  about  Ben.  He  has  been  gone  a 
week  now,  and  Heaven  knows  what  he  has  suffered. 
He  may  be  dead." 

"No,  mother,"  said  Mary,  who  had  more  of  her 
father's  strength  than  her  mother's  gentleness.  "  He 
is  not  dead,  you  may  depend  upon  that." 

"But  he  had  no  money,  that  I  know  of.  How 
could  he  live?" 

"Ben  can  take  care  of  himself  better  than  most 
boys  of  iris  age." 

"  But  think  of  a  boy  of  ten  going  out  in  the  world 
by  himself" 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  139 

"  There  are  many  boys  of  ten  who  have  to  io  it, 
•icther." 

*-  What  could  the  poor  bo^  dvi?" 

*'  He  inight  suffer  a  little ;  but  if  he  does,  he  will 
Ihe  sooner  come  home." 

"  I  wish  he  might,"  said  Mrs.  Brandon,  with  a  sigh. 
•*I  think  yom*  father  does  very  wrong  not  to  go 
after  him." 

"  He  wouldn't  know  where  to  go.  Besides,  he  has 
advertised." 

"  I  hope  Ben  will  not  see  the  advertisement.  Poor 
boy !  he  would  feel  hurt  to  think  that  we  cared  so 
little  for  him  as  to  offer  only  one  dollar  for  his  return." 

"  He  will  know  you  had  nothing  to  do  with  the 
advertisement,  mother ;  you  may  be  sure  of  that." 

"Yes,  he  knows  me  too  well  for  that.  I  would 
give  all  I  have  to  have  him  back." 

"  I  want  him  back  too,"  said  Mary.  "  He  is  my 
only  brother,  and  of  course  I  love  him ;  but  I  don't 
think  it  will  do  him  any  harm  to  suffer  a  little  as  a 
punishment  for  going  away." 

"  You  were  always  hard  upon  the  poor  boy,  Mary/ 
said  Mrs.  Brandon. 


140  JttJSN,    THE   LUGGAGE   SOT;    OR, 

"  No,  I  am  not  hard ;  but  I  see  his  faults,  and  I 
want  him  to  correct  them.  It  is  you  who  have  been 
too  indulgent." 

"  If  I  have  been,  it  is  because  you  and  your  fathei 
have  been  too  much  the  other  way." 

There  was  a  brief  pause,  then  Mrs.  Brandon  said, 
"Can  you  think  of  any  place,  Mary,  where  Ben 
would  be  likely  to  go? " 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  he  went  to  Philadelphia,  When 
a  boy  runs  away  from  home,  he  naturally  goes  to  the 
nearest  city." 

"  I  have  a  great  mind  to  go  up  to-morrow." 

"  What  good  would  it  do,  mother?  " 

"  I  might  meet  him  in  the  street." 

"  There  is  not  much  chance  of  that.  I  shouldn't 
wonder  if  by  this  time  he  had  gone  to  sea." 

"  Gone  to  sea  I  "  repeated  Mrs.  Brandon,  turning 
pale.  "What  makes  you  think  so?  Did  he  ever 
speak  of  such  a  thing  to  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he  once  threatened  to  run  away  to  sea, 
When  I  did  something  that  did  not  suit  him." 

"Ob,  I  hope  not.     I  have  heard  that  boys  are 


AMONG   THE    WHARVES.  141 

treated  very  badly  on  board  ship.  Besides,  ne  might 
get  drowned." 

"  I  am  not  sure  whether  a  good  sea- voyage  might 
not  be  the  best  thing  for  him,"  said  strong-minded 
Mary. 

"  But  suppose  he  should  be  ill-treated  ?  " 

"  It  might  take  the  pride  out  of  him,  and  make 
him  a  better  boy." 

"I  never  get  much  satisfaction  from  you,  Mary. 
I  don't  see  how  you  can  be  so  harsh." 

"  I  see  we  are  not  likely  to  agree,  mother.  But 
there  is  a  boy  coming  up  the  walk  with  a  letter  in 
his  hand." 

"It  may  be  from  Ben,"  said  his  mother,  rising 
hastily,  and  going  to  the  door. 

The  boy  was  William  Gordon,  a  schoolmate  of 
Ben's,  whose  disappearance,  long  before  this  time, 
had  been  reported  throughout  the  village. 

"  I  was  passing  the  post-office,  Mrs.  Brandon," 
he  said,  "  when  the  postmaster  called  from  the  win- 
dow, and  asked  me  to  bring  you  this  letter.  I  think 
it  is  from  Ben.  The  handwriting  looks  like  his." 


142  BEN)    TELE    LUGGAGE   BO1  /    OJB, 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  William,"  said  Mrs.  Brandon,  joy- 
tolly.  "  Give  it  to  me  quick." 

She  tore  it  open  and  read  the  letter,  which  is  given 
»t  length  in  the  last  chapter. 

"  Is  it  from  Ben?  "  asked  William. 

"  Yes." 

"  Is  he  in  Philadelphia?  I  noticed  it  was  mailed 
there." 

"  Yes  —  no  —  he  says  he  cannot  tell  us  where  he  is." 

"  I  think  he  must  be  in  Philadelphia,  or  the  letter 
^ould  not  be  mailed  there." 

"  Come  in,  William.     I  must  go  and  tell  Mary." 

u  No,  thank  you,  Mrs.  Brandon.  I  am  on  an 
errand  for  my  mother.  I  hope  Ben  is  well  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he  says  so." 

Mrs.  Brandon  went  in,  and  showed  the  letter  to 
her  daughter. 

's  There,  I  told  you,  mother,  you  need  not  be 
alarmed.  He  says  he  is  earning  his  living." 

"  But  it  seems  so  hard  for  a  boy  of  ten  to  have  to 
work  for  his  living.  What  can  he  do?  " 

•'Oh,  there  are  various  things  he  can  do.  He 
might  sell  papers,  for  instance." 


AMONG   THE    WHARVES.  148 

"I  think  I  shall  go  to  Philadelphia  to-morrow, 
Mary." 

"  It  won't  be  of  any  use,  you  may  depend,  mother, 
He  is  not  in  Philadelphia." 

"  But  this  letter  is  posted  there." 

"  That  is  a  proof  to  me  that  he  is  not  there.  He 
•ays  he  don't  want  to  come  back." 

Shortly  after,  Mr.  Brandon  entered  the  house. 

"We  have  had  a  letter  from  Ben,  father,"  said 
Mary. 

"  Show  it  to  me,"  he  said,  briefly. 

He  read  the  letter,  and  handed  it  back  without  a 
word. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it,  Mr.  Bran- 
don ?  "  asked  his  wife. 

"  What  is  there  to  be  done?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  think  I  had  better  go  up  to  Philadelphia  to- 
morrow." 

"What  for?" 

"  I  might  see  him." 

"  You  would  be  going  on  a  wild-goose  chase." 

"  Then  why  won't  you  go  ?  " 

"  It  isn't  worth  while.     If  the  boy  doesn't  want  to 


144  BEN,    THE   LUGGAGE   BOY;    OJJ, 

come  home,  he  may  take  care  of  himself  if  he  likes  it 
so  well.  I  shan't  run  round  after  him." 

"  He  says  he  did  not  do  what  you  punished  him 
for,"  said  Mrs.  Brandon,  rather  deprecatingly,  for 
she  was  somewhat  in  awe  of  her  bvisband. 

"  Of  course  he  would  say  that.  I  have  heard  that 
before." 

"  But  I  don't  think  he  really  did." 

"  I  know  you  have  always  been  foolishly  indulgent 
to  him." 

"  At  any  rate  that  cannot  be  said  of  you,"  said  his 
wife,  with  some  spirit. 

"No,"  he  answered,  rather  surprised  at  such  an 
unusual  manifestation  from  his  usually  acquiescent 
wife  ;  "  you  are  right  there,  and  you  might  add  that 
I  don't  mean  to  be,  if  he  should  return." 

"  I  think  he  would  have  come  home  but  for  that 
advertisement.  You  see  what  he  says  about  it  in 
his  letter." 

"  If  I  were  to  write  it  again,  I  should  write  it  in 
the  same  manner,  though  perhaps  I  might  not  offer 
so  large  a  sum." 

Mrs.  Brandon  sighed,  and  ceased  speaking.     She 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  145 

Knew  her  husband  well  enough  to  see  that  there  was 
little  chance  of  changing  his  determination,  or  soft- 
ening his  anger  towards  Ben. 

The  next  day,  when  Mr.  Brandon  returned  home 
to  dinner  from  his  coal-wharf,  he  found  Mary  seated 
at  the  head  of  the  table. 

"  Where  is  your  mother?"  he  asked. 

"  She  went  to  Philadelphia  by  the  middle  train, * 
was  the  answer. 

"  She  has  gone  on  a  fool's  errand." 

u  I  advised  her  not  to  go ;  but  she  thought  she 
might  meet  Ben,  and  I  could  not  dissuade  her." 

"Well,  she  will  be  better  satisfied  after  she  has 
been  up  —  and  failed  to  find  him." 

"  Do  you  think  he  will  ever  come  back,  father?" 

"  Yes  ;  he  will  turn  up  again  some  daj^,  like  a  bad 
penny.  He  will  find  that  earning  his  own  living  is 
not  quite  so  agreeable  as  being  taken  care  of  at 
home." 

"  Suppose  he  shouldn't  come  back?" 

•'  So  much  the  worse  for  him,"  said  Mr.  Brandon. 

Mr.  Brandon  spoke  after  his  way  of  speaking,  for 
he  was  not  an  affectionate  man,  nor  given  to  the 

10 


146  BEN,    THE   LUGGAGE   BOY;    OR, 

softer  emotions.  He  had  never  given  Ben  anj?  reason 
to  think  he  loved  him,  at  least  since  he  was  a  baby , 
tmt  appearances  are  sometimes  deceptive,  and  he 
thought  more  of  his  son's  absence  than  any  one 
would  have  supposed.  He  thought,  too,  of  that 
sentence  in  Ben's  letter,  in  which  he  spoke  of  being 
punished  for  what  he  did  not  do,  and  he  admitted  to 
himself,  though  he  would  not  have  done  so  to  his 
wife,  that  perhaps  he  had  been  unjust  to  the  boy 
after  all.  Every  day  when  he  turned  from  his  office 
to  go  home,  it  was  with  the  unacknowledged  hope 
that  he  might  find  the  prodigal  returned.  But  in  this 
hope  they  were  all  doomed  to  be  disappointed.  Year 
after  year  passed  away,  and  still  no  tidings  from  Ben 
beyond  that  single  letter  which  we  have  mentioned. 

Mrs.  Brandon  returned  from  Philadelphia,  as 
might  have  been  anticipated,  disappointed  and 
despondent.  She  was  very  tired,  for  she  had  wan- 
dered about  the  streets,  looking  everywhere,  during 
the  -four  or  five  hours  she  was  in  the  city.  Once  or 
twice  her  heart  beat  high,  as  she  saw  in  front  of  her 
a  boy  of  Ben's  size,  and  dressed  as  he  had  been 
dressed  when  he  left  home.  But  when,  with  hurry- 


THE    WHARVES.  147 

mg  steps  she  came  up  with  him,  she  was  doomed,  in 
every  case,  to  disappointment. 

"I  told  you  it  would  be  no  use,  mother,"  said 
Mary. 

"I  couldn't  stay  at  home  contented,  if  I  did 
nothing  to  find  him,  Mary." 

"  He'll  turn  up  yet  some  day,  mother, — return  in 
rags  most  likely." 

"  Come  when  he  may,  or  how  he  may,  Mary,  nqj 
arms  shall  be  open  to  receive  him." 

Bat  the  years  passed,  and  Ben  did  not 


14S  £JUT,    THE   LUQQ4GX   SOT;   OB* 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE   FIRST   CIGAR. 

IT  ras  a  week  or  more  after  Ben  started  in  barf- 
as  a  baggage-smasher,  that,  in  returning  from 
a  carpet-bag  to  Lovejoy's  Hotel,  on  Broad- 
way, he  fell  in  with  his  first  city  acquaintance,  Jerry 
Collins.  Jerry  had  just  "polished  up"  a  gentle- 
man's boots,  and,  having  been  unusually  lucky  this 
morning  in  securing  shines,  felt  disposed  to  be 
lavish. 

"How  are  you,  Ben?"  asked  Jerry.  "  What  are 
you  up  to  now?" 

"  Fm  a  baggage-smasher,"  answered  Ben,  who  was 
beginning  to  adopt  the  language  of  the  streets. 

"How  does  it  pay?" 

"Well,"  said  Ben,  "sometimes  it,  pays  first  rate, 
when  I'm  lucky.  Other  days  I  don't  get  much  to  do. 
I  didn't  make  but  fifteen  cents  this  morning.  I 


AMONG   THE    WHARVES.  14$ 

carried  a  bag  up  to  Lovejoy's,  and  that's  all  the  man 
would  pay  me." 

"  I've  made  fifty  cents  this  mornin'.  Look  here, 
Johnny." 

The  Johnny  addressed  was  a  boy  who  sold  cigars, 
four  for  ten  cents. 

"  Fll  take  two,"  said  Jerry,  producing  five  cents. 

"  Six  cents  for  two,"  said  the  cigar  boy. 

"All  right,  I'll  owe  you  the  other  cent,"  said 
J«rry,  coolly. 

"  Do  you  smoke?  "  inquired  Ben. 

"  In  course  I  do.    Don't  you?  " 


"Why  don't  you?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Ben.     "  Do  you  like  it?" 

"It's  bully.  Here,  take  this  cigar.  I  bought  it 
for  you." 

Ben  hesitated;  but  finally,  induced  mainly  by  a 
curiosity  to  see  how  it  seemed,  accepted  the  cigar. 
and  lighted  it  by  Jerry's.  The  two  boys  sat  down  on 
an  empty  box,  and  Jerry  instructed  Ben  how  to  puffi, 
Ben  did  not  particularly  enjoy  it;  but  thought  h« 
might  as  well  learn  now  as  any  other  time.  Hit 


150  BBN*    THE   LUGGAGE   BOlf  ;    Oft, 

companion  puffed  away  like  a  veteran  smoker ;  but 
after  a  while  Ben's  head  began  to  swim,  and  he  felt 
sick  at  his  stomach. 

"  I  don't  feel  well,"  he  said.  "  I  guess  I'll  stop 
smoking." 

"  Oh,  go  ahead,"  said  Jerry.  "  It's  only  because 
it's  the  first  time.  You'll  like  it  after  a  while." 

Thus  encouraged,  Ben  continued  to  smoke,  though 
Ms  head  and  his  stomach  got  continually  worse. 

**  I  don't  like  it,"  gasped  Ben,  throwing  down  th€ 
cigar.  *'  I'm  going  to  stop." 

u  You've  got  a  healthy  color,"  said  Jerry,  slyly. 

"  I'm  afraid  I'm  going  to  be  awful  sick,"  said  Ben, 
whose  sensations  were  very  far  from  comfortable. 
Just  at  this  moment,  ignorant  of  the  brief  character 
of  his  present  feelings,  he  heartily  wished  himself  at 
nome,  for  the  first  time  since  his  arrival  in  the  city. 

"  You  do  look  rather  green,"  said  Jerry.  "  May- 
be you're  going  to  have  the  cholera.  I've  heard  that 
there's  some  cases  round." 

This  suggestion  alarmed  Ben,  who  laid  his  head 
down  between  his  knees,  and  began  to  feel  worse  than 
ever. 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  151 

"  Don't  be  scared,"  said  Jerry,  thinking  it  time  to 
relieve  Ben's  mind.  "  It's  only  the  cigar.  YouTI 
feel  all  right  in  a  jiffy." 

While  Ben  was  experiencing  the  disagreeable 
effects  of  his  first  cigar,  he  resolved  never  to  smoke 
another.  But,  as  might  have  been  expected,  he  felt 
differently  on  recovering.  It  was  not  long  before  he 
could  puff  away  with  as  much  enjoyment  and  uncon- 
cern as  any  of  his  street  companions,  and  a  part  of 
his  earnings  were  consumed  in  this  way.  It  may  be 
remarked  here  that  the  street  boy  does  not  always 
indulge  in  the  luxury  of  a  whole  cigar.  Sometimes 
he  picks  up  a  fragment  which  has  been  discarded  by 
the  original  smoker.  There  are  some  small  dealers, 
who  make  it  a  business  to  collect  these  "  stubs,"  or 
employ  others  to  do  so,  and  then  sell  them  to  the 
street  boys,  at  a  penny  apiece,  or  less,  according  to 
size.  Sometimes  these  stubs  are  bought  in  prefer- 
ence to  a  cheap  cigar,  because  they  are  apt  to  be 
of  a  superior  quality.  Ben,  however,  never  smoked 
u  stubs."  In  course  of  time  he  became  very  much 
like  other  street  boys ;  but  in  some  respects  his  taste 
was  more  fastidious,  and  he  preferred  to  indulge 


J52  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE   SOT;   OJ8, 

himself   in  a  cheap  cigar,  which  was  not  second- 
hand. 

We  must  now  pass  rapidly  over  the  six  years  which 
elapsed  from  the  date  of  BCD'S  first  being  set  adrift 
in  the  streets  to  the  period  at  which  our  story  prop- 
erly begins.  These  years  have  been  fruitful  of 
change  to  our  young  adventurer.  They  have  changed 
him  from  a  country  boy  of  ten,  to  a  self-reliant 
and  independent  street  boy  of  sixteen.  The  impres- 
sions left  by  his  early  and  careful  home-training  have 
been  mostly  effaced.  Nothing  in  his  garb  now  dis- 
tinguishes him  from  the  class  of  which  he  is  a  type. 
He  has  long  since  ceased  to  care  for  neat  or  whole 
attire,  or  carefully  brushed  hair.  His  straggling 
locks,  usually  long,  protrude  from  an  aperture 
in  his  hat.  His  shoes  would  make  a  very  poor  adver- 
tisement for  the  shoemaker  by  whom  they  were  orig- 
inally manufactured.  His  face  is  not  always  free 
from  stains,  and  his  street  companions  have  long 
since  ceased  to  charge  him  with  putting  on  airs, 
on  account  of  the  superior  neatness  of  his  per- 
sonal appearance.  Indeed,  he  has  become  rathei 
a  favorite  among  them,  in  consequence  of  his 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  153 

frankness,  and  his  willingness  at  all  times  to  lend 
a  helping  hand  to  a  comrade  temporarily  :<  hard 
up,"  He  has  adopted  to  a  great  extent  the  tastes 
and  habits  of  the  class  to  which  he  belongs,  and  bears 
with  acquired  philosophy  the  hardships  and  priva- 
tions which  fall  to  their  lot.  Like  "  Ragged  Dick," 
he  has  a  sense  of  humor,  which  is  apt  to  reveal  itself 
in  grotesque  phrases,  or  amusing  exaggerations. 

Of  course  his  education,  so  far  as  education  is 
obtained  from  books,  has  not  advanced  at  all.  He 
has  not  forgotten  how  to  read,  having  occasion  to 
read  the  daily  papers.  Occasionally,  too,  he  indulges 
himself  in  a  dime  novel,  the  more  sensational  the 
better,  and  is  sometimes  induced  to  read  therefrom  to 
a  group  of  companions  whose  attainments  are  even 
iess  than  his  own. 

It  may  be  asked  whether  he  ever  thinks  of  his 
Pennsylvania  home,  of  his  parents  and  his  sister.  At 
first  he  thought  of  them  frequently ;  but  by  degrees 
he  became  so  accustomed  to  the  freedom  and  inde- 
pendence of  his  street  life,  with  its  constant  variety, 
that  he  would  have  been  unwilling  to  return,  even  if 
the  original  cause  of  his  leaving  home  were  removed 


154  BEN,    THE   LUGGAGE   BOY;    OR* 

Life  iii  a  Pennsylvania  village  seemed  "  slow  "  com- 
pared with  the  excitement  of  his  present  life. 

In  the  winter,  when  the  weather  was  inclement,  and 
the  lodging  accommodations  afforded  by  the  street 
were  not  particularly  satisfactory,  Ben  found  it  conven- 
*ent  to  avail  himself  of  the  cheap  lodgings  furnished 
by  the  Newsboys'  Lodging  House ;  but  at  other 
times,  particularly  in  the  warm  summer  nights,  he 
eaved  his  six  cents,  and  found  a  lodging  for  himself 
among  the  wharves,  or  in  some  lane  or  alley.  Of  the 
future  he  did  not  think  much.  Like  street  boys  in 
general,  his  horizon  was  limited  by  the  present. 
Sometimes,  indeed,  it  did  occur  to  him  that  ho 
could  not  be  a  luggage  boy  all  his  lifetime. 
Some  time  or  other  he  must  take  up  something  else. 
However,  Ben  carelessly  concluded  that  he  could 
make  a  living  somehow  or  other,  and  as  to  old  age 
that  was  too  far  ahead  to  disquiet  himself  about. 


AMONG   THE    WHARVES.  155 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

i 

THE   PASSENGER   FROM  ALBANY. 

BEN  did  not  confine  himself  to  any  particular  piei 
or  railway  depot,  but  stationed  himself  now  at  one, 
now  at  another,  according  as  the  whim  seized  him,  or 
as  the  prospect  of  profit  appeared  more  or  less  prom- 
ising. One  afternoon  he  made  his  way  to  the  pier  at 
which  the  Albany  boats  landed.  He  knew  the  hour 
of  arrival,  not  only  for  the  river-boats,  but  for  most 
of  the  inward  trains,  for  this  was  required  by  his 
business. 

He  had  just  finished  smoking  a  cheap  cigar  when 
the  boat  arrived.  The  passengers  poured  out,  and 
the  usual  bustle  ensued.  Now  was  the  time  for  Ben 
to  be  on  the  alert.  He  scanned  the  outcoming  pas- 
sengers with  an  attentive  eye,  fixing  his  attention 
upon  those  who  were  encumbered  with  carpet-bags, 
valises,  or  bundles.  These  he  marked  out  as  his  pos» 
eible  patrons,  and  accosted  them  professionally. 


156  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE  BOY;   O.B, 

"  Smash  yer  baggage,  sir  ? "  he  said  to  a  gentle- 
man  carrying  a  valise. 

The  latter  stared  hard  at  Ben,  evidently  misunder- 
standing him,  and  answered  irascibly,  "  Confound 
your  impudence,  boy ;  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Smash  yer  baggage,  sir?  " 

"  If  you  smash  my  baggage,  I'll  smash  your  head." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,  for  your  kind  offer ;  but  my  head 
aint  insured,"  said  Ben,  who  saw  the  joke,  and  en- 
Joyed  it. 

"Look  here,  boy,"  said  the  puzzled  traveller, 
"  what  possible  good  would  it  do  you  to  smash  my 
baggage  ? " 

"  That's  the  way  I  make  a  livin',"  said  Ben. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  any  persons  are  foolish 
enough  to  pay  you  for  destroying  their  baggage? 
You  must  be  crazy,  or  else  you  must  think  I  am." 

"  Not  destroying  it,  smashin'  it." 

"  What's  the  difference?  " 

Here  a  person  who  tad  listened  to  the  conversa- 
tion with  some  amusement  interposed. 

"  If  you  will  allow  me  to  explain,  sir,  the  boy  only 
proposes  to  carry  your  valise.  He  is  what  we  call  a 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  157 

1  baggage-smasher,'  and  carrying  it  is  called  4  smash- 
ing.'" 

44  Indeed,  that's  a  very  singular  expression  to  use. 
Well,  my  lad,  I  think  I  understand  you  now.  You 
have  no  hostile  intentions,  then  ?  " 

44  Nary  a  one,"  answered  Ben. 

"  Then  I  may  see  fit  to  employ  you.  Of  conrM 
you  know  the  way  everywhere  ?  " 

44  Yes,  sir." 

44  You  may  take  my  valise  as  far  as  Broadwa) 
There  I  shall  take  a  stage." 

Ben  took  the  valise,  and  raising  it  to  his  shoulders 
was  about  to  precede  his  patron. 

44  You  can  walk  along  by  my  side,"  said  the  gen- 
tleman ;  "  I  want  to  talk  to  you." 

44  All  right,  governor,"  said  Ben.  "  I'm  ready  for 
an  interview." 

44  How  do  you  like  4  baggage- smashing,'  as  you  call 
It?" 

44 1  like  it  pretty  well  when  I'm  workin*  for  a  lib* 
eral  gentleman  like  you,"  said  Ben,  shrewdly. 

44 What  makes  you  think  I  am  liberal?"  asked 
the  gentleman,  smiling. 


158  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE  BOY;   OR, 

*'  I  can  tell  by  your  face,"  answered  our  hero. 

"But  you  get  disappointed  sometimes,  don't  you?  * 

"  Yes,  sometimes,"  Ben  admitted. 

"  Tell  me  some  of  your  experiences  that  way." 

"  Last  week,"  said  Ben,  "  I  carried  a  bag,  and  a 
thunderin*  heavy  one,  from  the  Norwich  boat  to 
French's  Hotel,  —  a  mile  and  a  half  I  guess  it  was, — 
and  how  much  do  you  think  the  man  paid  me  ?  " 

"  Twenty-five  cents." 

"  Yes,  he  did,  but  he  didn't  want  to.  All  he  offered 
me  first  was  ten  cents." 

"  That's  rather  poor  pay.  I  don't  think  I  should 
want  to  work  for  that  myself." 

"  You  couldn't  live  very  high  on  such  pay,"  said 
Ben. 

"  I  have  worked  as  cheap,  though." 

"  You  have ! "  said  Ben,  surprised. 

"Yes,  my  lad,  I  was  a  poor  boy  once,  —  as  poor 
as  you  are." 

"  Where  did  you  live  ?  "  asked  Ben,  interested. 

"  In  a  country  town  in  New  England.  My  father 
died  early,  and  I  was  left  alone  in  the  world.  So 
I  hired  myself  out  to  a  farmer  for  a  dollar  a  week  and 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  159 

board.  I  had  to  be  up  at  five  every  morning,  and 
work  all  day.  My  wages,  you  see,  amounted  to  only 
about  sixteen  cents  a  day  and  board  for  twelve  hours' 
work." 

"  Why  didn't  you  run  away?"  inquired  Ben. 

"  I  didn't  know  where  to  run  to." 

"I  s'pose  you  aint  workin'  for  that  now?"  said 
our  hero. 

"No,  I've  been  promoted,"  said  the  gentleman, 
smiling.  "  Of  course  I  got  higher  pay,  as  I  grew 
older.  Still,  at  twenty-one  I  found  myself  with  only 
two  hundred  dollars.  I  worked  a  year  longer  till 
it  became  three  hundred,  and  then  I  went  out  West, — 
to  Ohio,  —  where  I  took  up  a  quarter-section  of  land, 
and  became  a  farmer  on  my  own  account.  Since 
then  I've  dipped  into  several  things,  have  bougnt 
»nore  land,  which  has  increased  in  value  on  my  hands, 
till  now  I  am  probably  worth  fifty  thousand  dollars.*' 

u  I'm  glad  of  it,"  said  Ben. 

"Why?" 

**  Because  you  can  afford  to  pay  me  liberal  far 
waashin'  your  baggage." 


C60  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE  BOY;    OR, 

"  What  do  you  call  liberal?"  inquired  his  patron, 
smiling. 

"  Fifty  cents,"  answered  Ben,  promptly. 

"  Then  I  will  be  liberal.  Now,  suppose  you  tell 
me  something  about  yourself.  How  long  have  you 
been  a  *  baggage-smasher,'  as  you  call  it?" 

"  Six  years,"  said  Ben. 

"  You  must  have  begun  young.  How  old  are  yon 
now?" 

"  Sixteen." 

"  You'll  soon  be  a  man.  What  do  you  intend  to 
do  then?" 

"I  haven't  thought  much  about  it,"  said  Ben,  with 
truth. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  carry  baggage  all  your  life, 
do  you?" 

"  I  guess  not,"  answered  Ben.  "  When  I  get  to 
be  old  and  infirm,  I'm  goin'  into  some  light,  genteel 
employment,  such  as  keepin*  a  street  stand." 

"So  that  is  your  highest  ambition,  is  it?"  asked 
the  stranger. 

"  I  don't  think  I've  got  any  ambition,"  said  Ben* 
"  A.S  long  as  I  make  a  livin',  I  don't  mind." 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  161 

"When  you  see  well-dressed  gentlemen  walking 
down  Broadway,  or  riding  in  then  carriages,  don't 
you  sometimes  think  it  would  be  agreeable  if  you. 
could  be  in  their  place?" 

"  I  should  like  to  have  a  lot  of  money,"  said  Ben 
"  I  wouldn't  mind  bein'  the  president  of  a  bank,  or  t 
railway-director,  or  somethin*  of  that  kind." 

"I  am  afraid  you  have  never  thought  seriously 
upon  the  subject  of  your  future,"  said  Ben's  com- 
panion,  "or  you  wouldn't  be  satisfied  with  your 
present  business." 

"  What  else  can  I  do?  I'd  rather  smash  baggage 
than  sell  papers  or  black  boots." 

"  I  would  not  advise  either.  I'll  tell  you  what  you 
ought  to  do,  my  young  friend.  You  should  leave  the 
city,  and  come  out  West.  I'll  give  you  something  to 
c!o  on  one  of  my  farms,  and  promote  you  as  you  are 
fit  for  it." 

"You're  very  kind,"  said  Ben,  more  seriously; 
*«  but  I  shouldn't  like  it." 

"Why  not?" 

"I  don't  want  to  leave  the  city.    Here  there'* 
11 


162  BEN,    THE   LUGGAGE  BOY;   Otf, 

fiomethiu'   goin'   on.     I'd   miss  the  streets   and  the 
crowds.     I'd  get  awful  lonesome  in  the  country." 

"  Isn't  it  tetter  to  have  a  good  home  in  the  coun- 
try than  to  live  as  you  do  in  the  city?" 

"I  like  it  well  enough,"  said  Ben.  "We're  a 
jolly  crowd,  and  we  do  as  we  please.  There  aint 
nobody  to  order  us  round  'cept  the  copps,  and  they 
let  us  alone  unless  we  steal,  or  something  of  that 
kind/' 

"  So  you  are  wedded  to  your  city  life  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  guess  so  ;  though  I  don't  remember  when 
the  weddin'  took  place." 

"  And  you  prefer  to  live  on  in  your  old  way  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  thank  you  all  the  same." 

"  You  may  change  your  mind  some  time,  my  lad 

If  you  ever  do,  and  will  write  to  me  at  B ,  Ohio, 

I  will  send  for  you  to  come  out.     Here  is  my  card." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Ben.  tc  I'll  keep  the  card> 
and  if  ever  I  change  my  mind,  I'll  let  you  know." 

Thev  had  been  walking  slowly,  or  they  would  have 
reached  Broadway  sooner.  They  had  now  arrived 
there,  and  the  stranger  bade  Ben  good-by,  handing 
him  at  the  same  time  the  fifty  cents  agreed  upon. 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  163 

"  He's  a  brick,"  Ben  soliloquized,  "  even  if  he 
did  say  he'd  smash  my  head.  I  hope  I'll  meet  some 
more  like  him." 

Ben's  objection  to  leaving  the  city  is  felt  in  an 
equal  degree  by  many  boys  who  are  situated  like  him- 
self. Street  life  has  its  privations  and  actual  suffer 
ings ;  but  for  all  that  there  is  a  wild  independence 
and  freedom  from  restraint  about  it,  which  suits 
those  who  follow  it.  To  be  at  the  beck  and  call  of 
no  one ;  to  be  responsible  only  to  themselves,  pro- 
vided they  keep  from  violating  the  law,  has  a  charm 
to  these  young  outcasts.  Then,  again,  they  become 
accustomed  to  the  street  and  its  varied  scenes,  and 
the  daily  excitement  of  life  in  a  large  city  becomes 
such  a  matter  of  necessity  to  them,  that  they  find 
the  country  lonesome.  Yet,  under  the  auspices  of 
the  Children's  Aid  Society,  companies  of  boys  are 
continually  being  sent  out  to  the  great  West  with 
the  happiest  results.  After  a  while  the  first  loneli- 
ness wears  away,  and  they  become  interested  in  the 
new  scenes  and  labors  to  which  diey  are  introduced, 
and  a  large  number  have  already  grown  up  to  hold 
respectable,  and,  in  some  cases,  prominent  places,  in 


164  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE  BOY,    OR, 

the  com  inanities  which  they  have  joined.  Others 
have  pined  for  the  city,  until  they  could  no  longer 
resist  their  yearning  for  it,  and  have  found  their 
way  back  to  the  old,  familiar  scenes,  to  resume  the 
former  life  of  suffering  and  privation.  Such  is  the 
strange  fascination  which  their  lawless  and  irrespon- 
sible mode  of  life  oftentimes  exerts  upon  the  minda 
of  these  young  Arabs  of  the  street. 

When  Ben  parted  from  the  passenger  by  the  Albany 
boat,  he  did  not  immediately  seek  another  job. 
Accustomed  as  he  was  to  live  from  "  hand  to  mouth," 
he  had  never  troubled  himself  much  about  accumu- 
lating more  than  would  answer  his  immediate  needs. 
Some  boys  in  the  Lodging  House  made  deposits  in 
the  bank  of  that  institution ;  but  frugality  was  not  one 
of  Ben's  virtues.  As  long  as  he  came  out  even  at 
the  end  of  the  day,  he  felt  very  well  satisfied.  Gen- 
erally he  went  penniless  to  bed;  his  business  not 
being  one  that  required  him  to  reserve  money  for 
capital  to  carry  it  on.  In  the  case  of  a  newsboy  it 
was  different.  He  must  keep  enough  on  hand  to  buy 
a  supply  of  papers  in  the  morning,  even  if  he  wew 
compelled  to  go  to  bed  supperless. 


AMONG   THE    WHARVES.  165 

With  fifty  cents  in  his  pocket,  Ben  felt  rich.  It 
would  buy  him  a  good  supper,  besides  paying  for  his 
lodging  at  the  Newsboys'  Home,  and  a  ticket  for  the 
Old  Bowery  besides,  —  that  is,  a  fifteen-cent  ticket, 
which,  according  to  the  arrangement  of  that  day. 
would  admit  him  to  one  of  the  best-located  seats  ii* 
the  house,  that  is,  in  the  pit,  corresponding  to  what 
is  known  as  the  parquette  in  other  theatres.  This 
arrangement  has  now  been  changed,  so  that  the  street 
boys  find  themselves  banished  to  the  upper  gallery 
of  their  favorite  theatre.  But  in  the  days  of  which  I 
am  speaking  they  made  themselves  conspicuous  in 
the  front  rows,  and  were  by  no  means  bashful  in 
indicating  their  approbation  or  disapprobation  of  the 
different  actors  who  appeared  on  the  boards  before 
them. 

Ben  had  not  gone  far  when  he  fell  in  with  an 
acquaintance,  —  Barney  Ftynn. 

"  Where  you  goin',  Ben  ?  "  inquired  Barney. 

'  Goin'  to  get  some  grub,"  answered  Ben. 

"  I'm  with  you,  then.    I  haven't  eat  anythioff 
mornin',  and  I'm  awful  hungry." 

"  Have  you  got  any  stamps?" 


166  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE  BOY;  OB, 

"  Vve  got  a  fifty." 

"  So  have  I." 

"  Where  are  you  goin'  for  supper?" 

'<  To  Pat's,  I  guess." 

"  All  right ;  Til  go  with  you." 

The  establishment  known  as  "Pat's"  is  located 
in  a  basement  in  Nassau  Street,  as  the  reader  of 
"  Mark,  the  Match  Boy,"  will  remember.  It  is,  of 
coarse,  a  cheap  restaurant,  and  is  considerably  fre- 
quented by  the  street  boys,  who  here  find  themselves 
more  welcome  guests  than  at  some  of  the  more  pre- 
tentious eating-houses. 

Ben  and  Barney  entered,  and  gave  their  orders  for 
a  substantial  repast.  The  style  in  which  the  meal 
was  served  differed  considerably  from  the  service  at 
Delmonico's ;  but  it  is  doubtful  whether  any  of  the 
guests  at  the  famous  up-town  restaurant  enjoyed  their 
meal  any  better  than  the  two  street  boys,  each  of 
whom  was  blest  with  a  "  healthy  "  appetite.  Barney 
had  eaten  nothing  since  morning,  and  Ben's  fast  had 
only  been  broken  by  the  eating  of  a  two-cent  apple, 
which  had  not  been  sufficient  to  satisfy  his  hunger. 

Notwithstanding  the  liberality  of  their  orders,  how 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  167 

ever,  each  of  the  boys  found  himself,  at  the  end  of 
the  ineal,  the  possessor  of  twenty-five  cents.  This 
was  not  Q,  very  large  sum  to  sleep  on,  but  it  wais  long 
since  either  had  waked  up  in  the  morning  with  so 
large  a  capital  to  commence  operations  upon. 

"What  shall  we  do?"  asked  Ben. 

44  Suppose  we  go  to  the  Old  Bowery,"  suggested 
Barney, 

44  Or  Tony  Pastor's,"  amended  Ben. 

44 1  like  the  Bowery  best.  There's  a  great  fight, 
and  a  feller  gets  killed  on  the  stage.  It's  a  stunnin' 
old  play." 

4'  Then  let  us  go,"  said  Ben,  who,  as  well  as  hii 
companion,  liked  the  idea  of  witnessing  a  stage  fight, 
which  was  all  the  more  attractive  on  account  of  hav- 
ing a  fatal  termination. 

As  the  theatre  tickets  would  cost  but  fifteen  cents 
each,  the  boys  felt  justified  in  purchasing  each  a  cheap 
cigart  which  they  smoked  as  they  walked  leisurely 
up  Chatham  Street 


168  BEN)    THE  LUGGAGE  BOY}   OX9 


CHAPTER   XV. 

THE  ROOM  UNDER   THE   WHARF. 

IT  was  at  a  late  hour  when  the  boys  left  the  the* 
toe.  The  play  had  been  of  a  highly  sensational 
character,  and  had  been  greeted  with  enthusiastic 
applause  on  the  part  of  the  audience,  particularly  the 
occupants  of  the  "  pit."  Now,  as  they  emerged  from 
the  portals  of  the  theatre,  various  characteristic 
remarks  of  a  commendatory  character  were  inter- 
changed. 

"  How'd  you  like  it,  Ben  ?  "  asked  Barney. 

"Bully,"  said  Ben. 

"I  liked  the  fight  best,"  said  Barney.  "Jones 
give  it  to  him  just  about  right." 

"  Yes,  that  was  good,"  said  Ben ;  "  but  I  liked  it 
best  where  Alphonso  says  to  Montmorency,  '  Caitiff, 
beware,  or,  by  the  heavens  above,  my  trusty 
shall  drink  thy  foul  heart's  blood  1 ' " 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  169 

Ben  gave  this  with  the  stage  emphasis,  so  far  as  he 
sould  imitate  it.  Barney  listened  admiringly. 

"  I  say,  Ben,"  he  replied,  "  you  did  that  bully 
You'd  make  a  tip-top  actor." 

"Would  I?"  said  Ben,  complacently.  "I  think 
Fd  like  to  try  it  if  I  knew  enough.  How  much 
money  have  you  got,  Barney  ?" 

"  Nary  a  red.    I  spent  the  last  on  peanuts." 

"  Just  my  case.  We'll  have  to  find  some  place  to 
turn  in  for  the  night." 

"  I  know  a  place,"  said  Barney,  "  if  they'll  let  us  in." 

"  Whereabouts  is  it?  " 

"  Down  to  Dover  Street  wharf." 

"  What  sort  of  a  place  is  it?  There  aint  any  boxes 
or  old  wagons,  are  there?" 

"  No,  it's  under  the  wharf,  —  a  bully  place." 

u  Under  the  wharf!     It's  wet,  isn't  it?  " 

"  No,  you  just  come  along.     I'll  show  you." 

Having  no  other  place  to  suggest,  Ben  accepted 
his  companion's  guidance,  and  the  two  made  their 
way  by  the  shortest  route  to  the  wharf  named.  It  is 
situated  not  far  from  Fulton  Ferry  on  the  east  side. 
Tt  may  be  called  a  double  wharf.  As  originally  built, 


170  BEN,    THIS  LUGGAGE   BOY;    OA, 

it  was  found  too  low  for  the  class  of  vessels  that 
it,  and  another  flooring  was  built  over  the  first,  leav- 
ing a  considerable  space  between  the  two.  Its 
capabilities  for  a  private  rendezvous  occurred  to  a 
few  boys,  who  forthwith  proceeded  to  avail  them- 
selves of  it.  It  was  necessary  to  carry  on  their  pro- 
ceedings secretly ;  otherwise  there  was  danger  of 
interference  from  the  city  police.  What  steps  they 
took  to  make  their  quarters  comfortable  will  shortly 
be  described. 

When  they  reached  the  wharf,  Barney  looked  about 
him  with  an  air  of  caution,  which  Ben  observed. 

"  What  are  you  scared  of?  "  asked  Ben. 

"  We  mustn't  let  the  ;  copp  '  see  us,"  said  Barney. 
"  Don't  make  no  noise." 

Thus  admonished,  Ben  followed  his  companion 
with  as  little  noise  as  possible. 

"  How  do  you  get  down  there?  "  he  asked. 

"  I'll  show  you,"  said  Barney. 

He  went  to  the  end  of  the  wharf,  and,  motioning 
Ben  to  look  over,  showed  him  a  kind  of  ladder 
formed  by  nailing  strips  of  wood,  at  regular  intervals, 
from  the  outer  edge  down  to  the  water's  edge.  This 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  171 

was  not  an  arrangement  of  the  boys,  but  was  for  the 
accommodation  of  river-boats  landing  at  the  wharf. 

"  I'll  go  down  first,"  whispered  Barney.  "  If  the 
copp '  comes  along,  move  off,  so  he  won't  notice 
uothinY' 

"  All  right !  "  said  Ben. 

Barney  got  part  way  down  the  ladder,  when  a  head 
was  protruded  from  below,  and  a  voice  demanded, 
"Who's  there?" 

"  It's  I,  —  Barney  Flynn." 

"  Come  along,  then." 

"  I've  got  a  fellow  with  me,"  continued  Barney. 

"Who  is  it?" 

"It's  Ben,  the  baggage-smasher.  He  wants  to 
stop  here  to-night." 

"  All  right ;  we  can  trust  him." 

"  Come  along,  Ben,"  Barney  called  up  the  ladder. 

Ben  quickly  commenced  the  descent.  Barney  was 
waiting  for  him,  and  held  out  his  hand  to  help  him 
off.  Our  hero  stepped  from  the  ladder  upon  the 
lower  flooring  of  the  wharf,  and  looked  about  him 
with  some  curiosity.  It  was  certainly  a  singular 
spectacle  that  met  his  view.  About  a  dozen  boys 


172  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE  BOY;    OB, 

were  congregated  in  the  room  under  the  wharf,  and 
had  evidently  taken  some  pains  to  make  themselves 
comfortable.  A  carpet  of  good  size  was  spread  over 
a  portion  of  the  flooring.  Upon  this  three  beds  were 
spread,  each  occupied  by  three  boys.  Those  who 
could  not  be  accommodated  in  this  way  laid  on  tne 
carpet.  Some  of  the  boys  were  already  asleep ;  iwo 
were  smoking,  and  conversing  in  a  low  voice.  Look- 
ing about  him  Ben  recognized  acquaintances  in 
several  of  them.* 

"Is  that  you,  Mike  Sweeny?"  he  asked  of  a  boy 
stretched  out  on  the  nearest  bed. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mike ;  "  come  and  lay  alongside  of 
me." 

There  was  no  room  on  the  bed,  but  Ben  found 
space  beside  it  on  the  carpet,  and  accordingly 
stretched  himself  out. 

*  The  description  of  the  room  under  the  wharf,  and  the  circumstan- 
eec  of  its  occupation  by  a  company  of  street  boys,  are  not  imaginary. 
It  was  finally  discovered,  and  broken  up  by  the  police,  the  details 
being  given,  at  the  time,  in  the  daily  papers,  as  some  of  my  New  York 
readers  will  remember.  Discovery  did  not  take  place,  however,  until 
it  had  been  occupied  some  time. 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  173 

'*  How  do  you  like  it  ?  "  asked  Mike. 

"Tip-top,"  said  Ben.     "How'd  you  get  the  car- 
pei  and  beds?    Did  you  buy  'em?" 

'*  Fes,"  said   Mike,  with  a  wink  ;   "  but  the  man 
wasn't  in,  and  we  didn't  pay  for  'em." 

"  You  stole  them,  then?  " 

"TV*  took  'em,"  said  Mike,  who  had  an  objection 
to  the  \v*j.td  stole. 

did   you  get  them  down  here  without  the 


copp  sG«in'  you?" 

"We  \id  'em  away  in  the  daytime,  and  didn't 
bring  'e*a  here  till  night.  We  came  near  gettin* 
caught." 

"  How  long  have  you  been  down  here  ?  " 

"  Most  a  month." 

"  It's  a  good  place." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mike,  "  and  the  rent  is  very  reason 
able.  We  don't  have  to  pay  nothin'  for  lodgin'.  It's 
cheaper'n  the  Lodge." 

"That's  so,"  said  Ben.  "I'm  sleepy,"  he  said, 
gaping.  "I've  been  to  the  Old  Bowery  to-night 
Good-night  1" 


174  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE  EOT;    OJl, 

"  C^ood-night ! " 

In  five  minutes  Ben  was  fast  asleep.  Half  an  houi 
»ater,  and  not  a  sound  was  heard  in  the  room  under 
the  wharf  except  the  occasional  deep  breathing  of 
some  of  the  boys.  The  policeman  who  trod  his  beat 
near  by  little  suspected  that  just  at  hand,  and  almost 
under  his  feet,  was  a  rendezvous  of  street  vagrants 
and  juvenile  thieves,  for  such  I  am  sorry  to  say  was 
the  character  of  some  of  the  boys  who  frequented 
these  cheap  lodgings. 

In  addition  to  the  articles  already  described  there 
were  two  or  three  chairs,  which  had  been  contributed 
by  different  members  of  the  organization. 

Ben  slept  soundly  through  the  night.  When  he 
woke  up,  the  gray  morning  light  entering  from  the 
open  front  towards  the  sea  had  already  lighted  up 
indistinctly  the  space  between  the  floors.  Two  or 
three  of  the  boys  were  already  sitting  up,  yawning 
and  stretching  themselves  after  their  night's  slumber. 
Among  these  was  Mike  Sweeny. 

"  Are  you  awake,  Ben  ?  "  he  asked. 

•*  Yes/'  said  Ben ;  "  I  didn't  hardly  know  where 
I  was  at  first." 


AMONG   THE    WHARVES.  175 

"  It's  a  bully  place,  isn't  it?" 

"  That's  so.     How'd  you  come  across  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  some  of  us  boys  found  it  out.  We've  been 
•leepin'  here  a  month." 

"  Won't  you  let  a  feller  in?  " 

"  We  might  let  you  in.    I'll  speak  to  the  boys." 

"  Td  like  to  sleep  here,"  said  Ben.  "  It's  a  good 
deal  better  than  sleepin*  out  round.  Who  runs  th« 
hotel?" 

"  Well,  I'm  one  of  'em." 

44  You  might  call  it  Sweeny's  Hotel,"  suggested 
Ben,  laughing. 

"  I  aint  the  boss  ;  Jim  Bagley's  got  most  to  do  with 
it." 

"Which  is  he?" 

"  That's  he,  over  on  the  next  bed." 

"What  does  he  do?" 

"  He's  a  travellin'  match  merchant." 

"  That  sounds  big." 

"  Jim's  smart,  —  he  is.  He  makes  more  money'n 
any  of  us." 

"  Where  does  he  travel?  " 
.  "  Once  he  went  to  Californy  in  the  steamer.     He 


176  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE  SOT;   OR, 

got  a  steerage  ticket  for  seventy-five  dollars ;  but  he 
made  more'n  that  blackin'  boots  for  the  other  passen- 
gers afore  they  got  there.  He  stayed  there  three 
months,  and  then  came  home." 

"  Does  he  travel  now? " 

"  Yes,  he  buys  a  lot  of  matches,  and  goes  up  the 
river  or  down  into  Jersey,  and  is  gone  a  week.  A 
little  while  ago  he  went  to  Buffalo." 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  I  know  where  that  is." 

"  Blest  if  I  d*." 

"  It's  in  the  western  part  of  York  State,  just 
across  from  Canada." 

"Who  told  you?" 

"  I  learned  it  in  school." 

"  I  didn't  know  you  was  a  scholar,  Ben." 

"  I  aint  now.  I've  forgot  most  all  I  ever  knew.  I 
haven't  been  to  school  since  I  was  ten  years  old." 

"Where  was  that?" 

"  In  the  country." 

u  Well,  I  never  went  to  school  more'n  a  few  weeks. 
I  can  read  a  little,  but  not  much." 

"  It  costs  a  good  deal  to  go  to  Buffalo.  How  di 3 
Jim  make  it  while  he  was  gone  ?  " 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  17T 

"  Oh,  he  came  home  with  ten  dollars  in  his  nocket 
besides  payin'  his  expenses." 
"  What  does  Jim  do  with  all  his  money?  " 
"He's   got  a  mother   and   sister  up   in  Bleeckei 
Street,  or   somewheres  round  there.     He  pays  hi* 
mother  five  dollars  a  week,  besides  takin'  care  of 
himself." 

"  Why  don't  he  live  with  his  mother  ?  " 
"  He'd  rather  be  round  with  the  boys." 
I  may  remark  here  that  Jim  Bagley  is  a  real  char- 
acter, and  all  that  has  been  said  about  him  is  derived 
from  information  given  by  himself,  in  a  conversation 
held  with  him  at  the  Newsboys'  Lodging  House.  He 
figures  here,  however,  under  an  assumed  name,  partly 
because  the  record  in  which  his  real  name  is  pre- 
served has  been  mislaid.  The  impression  made  upon 
the  mind  of  the  writer  was,  that  Jim  had  unusual 
business  ability  and  self-reliance,  and  might  possibly 
develop  into  a  successful  and  prosperous  man  of 
business. 

Jim  by  this  time  was  awake. 
"  Jim  Bagley,"  said  Mike,  "  here'a  *  feller  wouW 

like  to  put  up  at  our  hotel." 
12 


178  BEN,    THE   LUGGAGE    BOY;    O1Z, 

"  Who  is  he?"  asked  Jim. 

The  travelling  match  merchant,  as  Mike  had  d& 
ecribed  him,  was  a  boy  of  fifteen,  rather  small  of  his 
age,  with  a  keen  black  eye,  and  a  quick,  decided,  busi- 
ness-like way. 

"  It's  this  feller,  —  he's  a  baggage-smasher,"  ex- 
plained Mike. 

"  All  right,"  said  Jim ;  "  he  can  come  if  he'll  pay 
his  share." 

"  How  much  is  it?  "  asked  Ben. 

Mike  explained  that  it  was  expected  of  each  guest 
to  bring  something  that  would  add  to  the  comforts  of 
the  rendezvous.  Two  boys  had  contributed  the  car- 
pet, for  which  probably  they  had  paid  nothing ;  Jim 
had  supplied  a  bed,  for  which  he  did  pay,  as  "  taking 
things  without  leave"  was  not  in  his  line.  Three 
boys  had  each  contribu  ted  a  chair.  Thus  all  the  arti- 
cles which  had  been  accumulated  were  individual 
contributions.  Ben  promised  to  pay  his  admission  fee 
in  the  same  way,  but  expressed  a  doubt  whether 
he  might  not  have  to  wait  a  few  days,  in  order  to 
save  money  enough  to  make  a  purchase.  He  never 
stole  himself,  though  his  association  with  street  boysf 


AMONO    THE    WHARVES.  179 

whose  principles  are  not  always  very  strict  on  this 
point,  had  accustomed  him  to  regard  theft  as  a  venial 
fault,  provided  it  was  not  found  out.  For  his  own 
part,  however,  he  did  not  care  to  run  the  visk  of 
detection.  Though  he  had  cut  himself  off  from  his 
old  home,  he  still  felt  that  he  should  not  like  to  have 
the  report  reach  home  that  he  had  been  convicted  of 
dishonesty. 

At  an  early  hour  the  boys  shook  off  their  slumbers, 
and  one  by  one  left  the  wharf  to  enter  upon  their 
daily  work.  The  newsboys  were  the  first  to  go,  as 
they  must  be  on  hand  at  the  newspaper  offices  early 
to  get  their  supply  of  papers,  and  fold  them  in  readi- 
ness for  early  customers.  The  boot-blacks  soon  fol- 
lowed, as  most  of  them  were  under  the  necessity  of 
earning  their  breakfast  before  they  ate  it.  Ben  also 
got  up  early,  and  made  his  way  to  the  pier  of  the 
Stoningtoii  line  of  steamers  from  Boston.  These 
usually  arrived  at  an  early  hour,  and  there  wa<s  a  good 
chance  of  a  job  in  Ben's  line  when  the  passengers 
landed. 


180  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE  BOY;   0JT, 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

BEN,  MEETS  AN  OLD   FRIEND. 

BEN  had  about  half  an  hour  to  wait  for  the  arrival 
of  the  steamer.  Among  the  passengers  who  crossed 
the  plank  from  the  steamer  to  the  pier  was  a  gentle- 
man of  middle  age,  and  a  boy  about  a  year  younger 
than  Ben.  The  boy  had  a  carpet-bag  in  his  hand ; 
the  father,  for  such  appeared  to  be  the  relationship, 
carried  a  heavy  valise,  besides  a  small  bundle. 

"  Want  your  baggage  carried  ?  "  asked  Ben,  vary- 
ing his  usual  address. 

The  gentleman  hesitated  a  moment. 

"  You'd  better  let  him  take  it,  father,"  said  the 
boy. 

"  Very  well,  you  may  take  this  ;  '*  and  the  valise 
was  passed  over  to  Ben. 

"  Give  me  the  bag  too,"  said  Ben,  addressing  tht 
boy. 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  181 

"  No,  ril  take  that.  You'll  have  all  you  want  to 
do,  in  carrying  the  valise." 

They  crossed  the  street,  and  here  the  gentleman 
stood  still,  evidently  undecided  about  something. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  about,  father  ?  " 

"  I  was  thinking,"  the  gentleman  said,  after  a  slight 
pause,  "  what  I  had  better  do." 

"About  what?" 

*'  I  have  two  or  three  errands  in  the  lower  part  of 
the  city,  which,  as  my  time  is  limited,  I  should  lik* 
to  attend  to  at  once." 

"  You  had  better  do  it,  then." 

"  What  I  was  thinking  was,  that  it  would  not  be 
worth  while  for  you  to  go  round  with  me,  carrying 
the  baggage." 

"  Couldn't  I  go  right  up  to  Cousin  Mary's?"  asked 
his  son. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  might  lose  the  way." 

"  This  boy  will  go  with  me.  I  suppose  he  knowa 
the  way  all  about  the  city.  Don't  you?"  he  asked, 
turning  to  Ben. 

"  Where  do  you  want  to  go?"  asked  Ben, 

44  To  No.  —  Madison  Avenue." 


182  JBEff,    THE   LUGGAGE  BOY;    OJS, 

"  Yes,  I  can  show  you  the  way  there  well  enough  , 
but  it's  a  good  way  off." 

"  You  can  both  take  the  cars  or  stage  when  you 
get  up  to  the  Astor  House." 

"  How  will  that  do?"  asked  Charles,  for  this  was 
his  name. 

"  I  think  that  will  be  the  best  plan.  This  boy  can 
go  with  you,  and  you  can  settle  with  him  for  his  ser- 
vices. Have  you  got  money  enough  ?  " 

"Yes,  plenty." 

"  I  will  leave  you  here,  then." 

Left  to  themselves,  it  was  natural  that  the  two 
boys  should  grow  social.  So  far  as  clothing  went, 
there  was  certainly  a  wide  difference  between  them. 
Ben  was  attired  as  described  in  the  first  chapter. 
Charles,  on  the  other  hand,  wore  a  short  sack  of  dark 
cloth,  a  white  vest,  and  gray  pants.  A  gold  chain, 
depending  from  his  watch-pocket,  showed  that  he 
was  the  possessor  of  a  watch.  His  whole  appearance 
was  marked  by  neatness  and  good  taste.  But,  leav- 
ing out  this  difference,  a  keen  observer  might  detect 
a  considerable  resemblance  in  the  features  of  the  two 
boys.  Both  had  dark  hair,  black  eyes,  and  the  con* 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  183 

tour  of  the  face  was  the  same.  I  regret  to  add,  how- 
ever, that  Ben's  face  was  not  so  clean  as  it  ought  to 
have  been.  Among  the  articles  contributed  by  the 
boys  who  lived  in  the  room  under  the  wharf,  a  wash- 
stand  had  not  been  considered  necessary,  and  it  had 
been  long  since  Ben  had  regarded  washing  the  face 
and  hands  as  the  first  preparation  for  the  labors  of 
the  day. 

Charles  Marston  looked  at  his  companion  with 
gome  interest  and  curiosity.  He  had  never  lived  in 
New  York,  and  there  was  a  freshness  and  novelty 
about  life  in  the  metropolis  that  was  attractive  to  him. 

"Is  this  your  business?"  he  asked. 

u  What,  —  smashin'  baggage? "  inquired  Ben. 

"  Is  that  what  you  call  it?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  is  that  what  you  do  for  a  living?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Ben.  "  It's  my  profession,  when  1 
aint  attendin'  to  my  duties  as  a  member  of  the  Com- 
mon Council." 

"  So  you're  a  member  of  th3  city  government?" 
asked  Charles,  amused. 

"  Yes." 


184  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE  BOY;   OU, 

"  Do  you  have  much  to  do  that  way  ?  " 

"I'm  one  of  the  Committee  on  Wharves,"  said 
Ben.  "  It's  my  business  to  see  that  they're  right 
side  up  with  care ;  likewise  that  nobody  runs  away 
with  them  in  the  night." 

"  How  do  you  get  paid  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  earn  my  lodgin*  that  way  just  now,"  said 
Ben. 

"  Have  you  always  been  in  this  business  ?  " 

"  No.    Sometimes  I've  sold  papers." 

"  How  did  you  like  that  ?  " 

"  I  like  baggage-smashin'  best,  when  I  get  enough 
to  do.  You  don't  live  in  the  city,  do  you  ?  " 

"  No,  I  live  just  out  of  Boston, —  a  few  miles." 

"  Ever  been  in  New  York  before? " 

"  Once,  That  was  four  years  ago.  I  passed 
through  on  the  way  from  Pennsylvania,  where  I  used 
to  live." 

"Pennsylvania,"  repeated  Ben,  beginning  to  be 
interested.  "  Whereabouts  did  you  live  there,  —  in 
Philadelphy?" 

"No,  a  little  way  from  there,  in  a  small  town 
named  Cedarville." 


AMONG   THE    WHARVES.  183 

Ben  started,  and  he  nearly  let  fall  the  valise  from 
his  hand. 

"What's  the  matter?"  asked  Charles. 

u  I  came  near  fallin',"  said  Ben,  a  little  confused 
"What's  your  name?"  he  asked,  rather  abruptly. 

"  Charles  Marston." 

Ben  scanned  intently  the  face  of  his  companion. 
He  had  good  reason  to  do  so,  for  though  Charles 
little  suspected  that  there  was  any  relationship 
between  himself  and  the  ragged  and  dirty  boy  who 
carried  his  valise,  the  two  were  own  cousins, 
They  had  been  schoolmates  in  Cedarville,  and 
passed  many  a  merry  hour  together  in  boyish  sport 
In  fact  Charles  had  been  Ben's  favorite  playmate, 
as  well  as  cousin,  and  man}'-  a  time,  when  he  lay 
awake  in  such  chance  lodgings  as  the  street 
provided,  he  had  thought  of  his  cousin,  and  wished 
that  he  might  meet  him  again.  Now  they  had  met 
most  strangely ;  no  longer  on  terms  of  equality,  but 
one  with  all  the  outward  appearance  of  a  young 
gentleman,  the  other,  a  ragged  and  ignorant 
street  boy.  Ben's  heart  throbbed  prr.Mly  when 
he  saw  thftt  his  cousin  regarded  him  *&  *  stranger, 


186  BEN,    THJS    LUGGAGE   BOY;    OR, 

and  fo::  the  first  time  in  a  long  while  he  felt  ashamed 
of  his  position.  He  would  not  for  the  world  have 
revealed  himself  to  Charles  in  his  present  situation ; 
yet  he  felt  a  strong  desire  to  learn  whether  he  was 
still  lemembered.  How  to  effect  this  without 
betraying  his  identity  he  hardly  knew ;  at  length 
he  thought  of  a  way  that  might  lead  to  it. 

"  My  name's  shorter'n  yours,"  he  said. 

"  What  is  it?  "  asked  Charles. 

"It's  Ben." 

44  That  stands  for  Benjamin ;  so  yours  is-  the 
longest  aftei  all." 

"  That's  so,  I  never  thought  of  that.  Everybody 
calls  me  Ben." 

u  What's  your  other  name?" 

Ben  hesitated.  If  he  said  "Brandon"  he  would 
be  discovered,  and  his  pride  stood  in  the  way  of 
that.  Finally  he  determined  to  give  a  false  name ; 
so  he  answered  after  a  slight  pause,  which  Charles 
did  not  notice,  "My  other  name  is  Hooper,  —  Ben 
Hooper.  Didn't  you  ever  know  anybody  of  my 
name?" 

"  What,  —  Ben  Hooper  ?  " 


AMCNQ    THIS    WHARVES.  187 

"  No,  Ben." 

44  Yes.     I  had  a  cousin  named  Ben." 

"Is  he  as  old  as  you?"  asked  Ben,  striving  to 
speak  carelessly. 

"  He  is  older  if  he  is  living ;  but  I  don't  think  he 
is  living." 

44  Why,  don't  you  know?  " 

44  He  ran  away  from  home  when  he  was  ten  yean 
old,  and  we  have  never  seen  him  since." 

44 Didn't  he  write  where  he  had  gone?" 

4 'He  wrote  one  letter  to  his  mother,  but  he 
didn't  say  where  he  was.  That  is  the  last  any  of 
us  beard  from  him." 

"What  sort  of  a  chap  was  he?"  inquired  Ben. 
44  He  was  ft  bad  un,  wasn't  he  ?  " 

44  No,  Ben  wasn't  a  bad  boy.  He  had  a  quick 
temper  though ;  but  whenever  he  was  angry  he 
soun  got  over  it." 

44  What  made  him  run  away  from  home  ?  " 

44  His  father  punished  him  for  something  he 
didn't  do.  He  found  it  out  afterwards ;  but  he  is  a 
stern  man,  and  he  never  says  anything  about  him. 
But  I  guess  he  feels  bad  sometimes.  Fathfci  says 


188  *>,    uVtfc   LUGGAGE  £OT ;    OR, 

he  has  ^iown  eld  very  fast  since  my  cousin  ran 
away." 

als  bis  mother  living, — your  aunt?"  Ben  in- 
quired, drawn  on  by  an  impulse  he  could  not 
resist. 

"Yes,  but  she  is  always  sad;  she  has  never 
slopped  mourning  for  Ben." 

"  Did  you  like  your  cousin  ? "  Ben  asked,  looking 
wistfully  in  the  face  of  his  companion. 

"Yes,  he  was  my  favorite  cousin.  Poor  Ben 
and  I  were  always  together.  I  wish  I  knew  whether 
he  were  alive  or  not." 

"  Perhaps  you  will  see  him  again  some  time." 

"I  don't  know.  I  used  to  think  so;  but  I  have 
about  given  up  hopes  of  it.  Ib  is  six  years  now 
since  he  ran  away." 

"  Maybe  he's  turned  bad,"  said  Ben.  "  S'posin* 
ie  was  a  ragged  baggage-smasher  like  me,  you 
wouldn't  care  about  seein'  him,  would  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  would,"  said  Charles,  warmly.  "  I'd  be 
glad  to  see  Ben  again,  no  matter  how  he  looked,  or 
how  poor  he  might  be." 

Ben  looked  at  his  cousin  with  a  glance  of  wistful 


AMONG   THE    WHARVES.  £89 

affection.  Street  boy  as  he  was,  old  memories 
had  been  awakened,  and  his  heart  had  been 
touched  by  the  sight  of  the  cousin  whom  he  had 
most  loved  when  a  young  boy. 

"  And  I  might  be  like  him,"  thought  Ben,  looking 
askance  at  the  rags  in  which  he  was  dressed, 
"instead  of  a  walkin*  rag-bag.  I  wish  I  was;" 
und  he  suppressed  a  sigh. 

It  has  been  said  that  street  boys  are  not  acces- 
sible to  the  softer  emotions ;  but  Ben  did  long  to 
throw  his  arm  round  his  cousin's  neck  in  the  old, 
affectionate  way  of  six  years  since.  It  touched 
him  to  think  that  Charlie  held  him  in  affectionate 
remembrance.  But  his  thoughts  were  diverted  by 
noticing  that  they  had  reached  the  Astor  House. 

"  I  guess  we'd  better  cross  the  street,  and  take 
the  Fourth  Avenue  cars,"  he  said.  "  There's  one 
over  there." 

"All  right  I "  said  Charles.  "I  suppose  you 
know  best." 

There  was  a  car  just  starting;  they  succeeded 
in  getting  aboard,  and  were  speedily  on  their 
up  town. 


190  BXN)    THE  LUGGAGE   EOT; 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

BEN   FOKMS    A    RESOLUTION. 

"Doss  this  cargo  up  Madison  Avenue?"  asked 
Charles,  after  they  had  taken  their  seats. 

44  No,"  said  Ben,  "  it  goes  up  Fourth  Avenue ; 
but  that's  only  one  block  away  from  Madison 
We'll  get  out  at  Thirtieth  Street." 

"  I'm  glad  you're  with  me ;  I  might  have  a  hard 
time  finding  the  place  if  I  were  alone." 

"  Are  you  going  to  stay  in  the  city  long?" 
asked  Ben. 

uYes,  I  am  going  to  school  here.  Father  is 
going  to  move  here  soon.  Until  he  comes  I  shall 
stay  with  my  Cousin  Mary." 

Ben  felt  quite  sure  that  this  must  be  his  older 
Bister,  but  did  not  like  to  ask. 

"  Is  she  married?" 

"  Yes,  it  is  the  sister  of  my  Cousin  Ben.  About 
two  years  ago  she  married  a  New  York  gentleman, 


AMOXG    THE    WHARVES.  I9l 

He  is  a  broker,  and  has  an  office  in  Wall  Street. 
I  suppose  he's  rich." 

"What's  his  name?"  asked  Ben.  "  Maybe  I've 
seen  his  office." 

"It  is  Abercrombie, — James  Abercrombie.  Did 
you  ever  hear  that  name  ?  " 

44 No,"  answered  Ben,  "I  can't  say  as  I  have.  He 
ftint  the  broker  that  does  my  business." 

"Have  you  much  business  for  a  broker?"  asked 
Charles,  laughing. 

"  I  do  a  smashin'  business  in  Erie  and  New  York 
Central,"  answered  Ben. 

"You  are  in  the  same  business  as  the  railroads," 
said  Charles. 

"How  is  that?" 

"  You  are  both  baggage-smashers." 

"  That's  so ;  only  I  don't  charge  so  much  for 
smashin'  baggage  as  they  do." 

They  were  on  Centre  Street  now,  and  a  stone 
building  with  massive  stone  columns  came  in  view. 
on  the  west  side  of  the  street. 

"  What  building  is  that?"  asked  Charles. 


192  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE  BOY;   OR, 

"  That's  a  hotel,  where  they  lodge  people  free 
gratis." 

Charles  looked  at  his  companion  for  information. 

"  It's  the  Tombs,"  said  Ben.  "  It  aint  so  popular, 
though,  as  the  hotels  where  they  charge  higher." 

"  No,  I  suppose  not.     It  looks  gloomy  enough." 

"  It  aint  very  cheerful,"  said  Ben.  "  I  never  put 
up  there,  but  that's  what  people  say  that  h»y« 
enjoyed  that  privilege." 

"  Where  is  the  Bowery?" 

"  We'll  soon  be  in  it.  We  turn  off  Centre  Street 
a  little  farther  up." 

Charles  was  interested  in  all  that  he  saw.  The 
broad  avenue  which  is  known  as  the  Bowery,  with  its 
long  line  of  shops  on  either  side,  and  the  liberal  dis- 
play of  goods  on  the  sidewalk,  attracted  his  attention, 
and  he  had  numerous  questions  to  ask,  most  of  which 
Ben  was  able  to  answer.  He  had  not  knocked  about 
the  streets  of  New  York  six  years  for  nothing.  Hia 
business  had  carried  him  to  all  parts  of  the  city,  and 
he  had  acquired  a  large  amouat  of  local  information, 
a  part  of  which  he  retailed  now  to  his  cousin  as  tiuay 
rode  side  by  side  in  the  horse-cars. 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  193 

At  length  they  reached  Thirtieth  "Street,  and  here 
they  got  out.  At  the  distance  of  ons  block  they 
found  Madison  Avenue.  Examining  the  numbers, 
they  readily  found  the  house  of  which  they  were  in 
Bearch.  It  was  a  handsome  four-story  house,  with  a 
brown-stone  front. 

"  This  must  be  Mr.  Abercrombie's  house,"  said 
Charles.  "  I  didn't  think  Cousin  Mary  lived  in  sucb 
a  nice  place." 

Ben  surveyed  the  house  with  mingled  emotions. 
He  could  not  help  contrasting  his  own  forlorn,  neg- 
lected condition  with  the  position  of  his  sister.  She 
lived  in  an  elegant  home,  enjoying,  no  doubt,  all  the 
advantages  which  money  could  procure ;  while  he, 
her  only  brother,  walked  about  the  streets  in  rags, 
sleeping  in  any  out-of-the-way  corner.  But  he  could 
blame  no  one  for  it.  It  had  been  his  own  choice, 
and  until  this  morning  he  had  been  well  enough  con- 
tented with  it.  But  all  at  once  a  glimpse  had  been 
given  him  of  what  might  have  been  his  lot  had  he 
been  lens  influenced  by  pride  and  waywardness,  anct 
by  the  light  of  this  new  prospect  he  saw  how  little 

hope  there  was  of  achieving  any  decent  position  ii» 
13 


"94  BEN)    THE  LUGGAGE   BO1  ;   OJJ, 

society  if  he  remained  in  his  present  occupation. 
But  what  could  he  do  ?  Should  he  declare  himself  at 
once  to  his  cousin,  and  his  sister  ?  Pride  would  not 
permit  him  to  do  it.  He  was  not  willing  to  let  them 
see  him  in  his  ragged  and  dirty  state.  He  deter- 
mined to  work  and  save  up  money,  until  he  could 
purchase  a  suit  as  handsome  as  that  which  his  cousin 
wore.  Then  he  would  not  be  ashamed  to  present 
himself,  so  far  as  his  outward  appearance  went. 
He  knew  very  well  that  he  was  ignorant ;  but  he  mast 
trust  to  the  future  to  remedy  that  deficiency.  It 
would  be  a  work  of  time,  as  he  well  knew.  Mean- 
while he  had  his  cousin's  assurance  that  he  would  be 
glad  to  meet  him  again,  and  renew  the  old,  affection- 
ate intimacy  which  formerly  existed  between  them. 

While  these  thoughts  were  passing  through  Ben's 
mind,  as  I  have  said,  they  reached  the  house. 

"Have  you  had  any  breakfast?"  asked  Chariest 
as  they  ascended  the  steps. 

"  Not  yet,"  answered  Ben.     "  It  isn't  fashionable 
to  take  breakfast  early." 

•'  Then  you  must  come  in.     My  cousin  will 
you  some  breakfast." 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  195 

Ben  hesitated ;  but  finally  decided  to  accept  the  in- 
citation.  He  had  two  reasons  for  this.  Partly 
because  it  would  give  him  an  opportunity  to  see  nis 
sister ;  and,  secondly,  because  it  would  save  him  the 
ixpense  of  buying  his  breakfast  elsewhere,  and  that 
was  a  consideration,  now  that  he  had  a  special  object 
for  saving  money. 

"  Is  Mrs.  Abercrombie  at  home  ?  "  asked  Charles  of 
the  servant  who  answered  his  summons. 

"  Ye§,  sir ;  who  shall  I  say  is  here  ?  " 

"Her  cousin,  Charles  Montrose." 

"  Will  you  walk  into  the  parlor  ?  "  said  the  servant, 
opening  a  door  at  the  side  of  the  hall.  She  looked 
doubtfully  at  Ben,  who  had  also  entered  the  house. 

"  Sit  down  here,  Ben,"  said  Charles,  indicating  a 
chair  on  one  side  of  the  hat-stand.  "  I'll  stop  here 
till  Mrs.  Abercrombie  comes  down,"  he  said. 

Soon  a  light  step  was  heard  on  the  stairs,  and  Mrs. 
Abercrombie  descended  the  staircase.  She  is  the 
same  that  we  last  saw  in  the  modest  house  in  the 
Pennsylvania  village ;  but  the  lapse  of  time  has 
softened  her  manners,  and  the  influence  of  a  husband 


196  ARY,    THE   LUGGAGE   BOY ;    O/Z, 

and  a  home  have  improved  her.  But  otherwise  sh« 
has  not  greatly  changed  in  her  looks. 

Ben,  who  examined  her  face  eagerly,  recognized 
her  at  once.  Yes,  it  was  his  sister  Mary  that  stood 
oefore  him.  He  would  have  known  her  anywhere. 
But  there  was  a  special  mark  by  which  he  remem- 
bered her.  There  was  a  dent  in  her  cheek  just  below 
tbe  temple,  the  existence  of  which  he  could  account 
for.  In  a  fit  of  boyish  passion,  occasioned  by  her 
tensing  him,  he  had  flung  a  stick  of  wood  at  her  head, 
and  this  had  led  to  the  mark. 

44  Where  did  you  come  from,  Charles?"  she  said, 
giving  her  hand  cordially  to  her  young  cousin. 

u  From  Boston,  Cousin  Mary." 

u  Have  you  just  arrived,  and  where  is  your  father? 
Yod  did  not  come  on  alone,  did  you  ?  " 

"  No,  father  is  with  me,  or  rather  he  came  on  with 
me,  but  he  had  some  errands  down  town,  and  stopped 
to  attend  to  them.  He  will  be  here  soon." 

"  How  did  you  find  the  way  alone  ?  " 

"  I  was  not  alone.  There  is  my  guide.  By  the 
iray,  I  told  him  to  stay,  and  you  would  give  hia» 
«ome  breakfast." 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  197 

"  Certainly,  he  can  go  down  in  the  basement,  and 
the  servants  will  give  him  something." 

Mrs.  Abercrombie  looked  at  Ben  as  she  spOKe ;  but 
on  her  part  there  was  no  sign  of  recognition.  This 
was  not  strange.  A  boy  changes  greatly  between 
ten  and  sixteen  years  of  age,  and  when  to  this  natu- 
ral change  is  added  the  great  change  in  Ben's  dress, 
it  will  not  be  wondered  at  that  his  sister  saw  in  him 
only  an  ordinary  street  boy. 

Ben  was  relieved  to  find  that  he  was  not  known. 
He  had  felt  afraid  that  something  in  his  looks  might 
remind  his  sister  of  her  lost  brother ;  but  the  indif- 
ferent look  which  she  turned  upon  him  proved  that 
he  had  no  ground  for  this  fear. 

"  You  have  not  breakfasted,  I  suppose,  Charles/ 
said  his  cousin. 

"  You  wouldn't  think  so,  if  you  knew  what  ai 
appetite  I  have,"  he  answered,  laughing. 

"  We  will  do  our  best  to  spoil  it,"  said  Mrs.  Aber- 
crombie. 

She  rang  the  bell,  and  ordered  breakfast  to  b€ 
*erved. 

"  We  are  a  little  late  this  morning,"  she  said 


198  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE  BOY;   OA, 

"Mr.  Abercrombie  is  in  Philadelphia  on  business ; 
so  you  won't  see  him  till  to-morrow." 

When  the  servant  appeared,  Mrs.  Abercrombie 
directed  her  to  take  Ben  downstairs,  and  give  him 
something  to  eat. 

"  Don't  go  away  till  I  see  you,  Ben,"  said  Charles, 
lingering  a  little. 

"  All  right,"  said  Ben. 

He  followed  the  servant  down  the  stairs  leading  to 
the  basement.  On  the  way,  he  had  a  glimpse 
through  the  half-open  door  of  the  breakfast-table, 
at  which  his  sister  and  his  cousin  were  shortly  to  sit 
down. 

"  Some  time,  perhaps,  I  shall  be  invited  in  there," 
he  said  to  himself. 

But  at  present  he  had  no  such  wish.  He  knew 
that  in  his  ragged  garb  he  would  be  out  of  place  in 
the  handsome  breakfast-room,  and  he  preferred  to 
wait  until  his  appearance  was  improved.  He  had  no 
fault  to  find  with  the  servants,  who  brought  him  a 
bountiful  supply  of  oeefsteak  and  bread  and  butter, 
and  a  cup  of  excellent  coffee.  Ben  had  been  up  long 
«nough  to  have  quite  an  appetite.  Besides,  the 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES. 

quality  of  the  breakfast  was  considerably  superior 
to  those  which  he  was  accustomed  to  take  in  the 
cheap  restaurants  which  he  frequented,  and  he  did 
full  justice  to  the  food  that  was  spread  before  him. 

When  he  had  satisfied  his  appetite,  he  had  a  few 
minutes  to  wait  before  Charles  came  down  to  speak 
to  him. 

"  Well,  Ben,  I  hope  you  had  a  good  breakfast,"  he 
said. 

"  Tip-top,"  answered  Ben. 

"  And  I  hope  also  that  you  had  an  appetite  equal 
to  mine." 

"My  appetite  don't  often  give  out,"  said  Ben; 
"  but  it  aint  so  good  now  as  it  was  when  I  came  in." 

"Now  we  have  a  little  business  to  attend  to. 
How  much  shall  I  pay  you  for  smashing  my  bag- 
gage ?  "  Charles  asked,  with  a  laugh. 

"  Whatever  you  like." 

"  Well,  here's  fifty  cents  for  your  services,  and  six 
cents  for  your  car-fare  back." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Ben. 

"  Besides  this,  Mrs.  Abercrombie  has  a  note,  which 
she  wants  carried  down  town  to  her  husband's  offic« 


200  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE  BOY;    OR, 

in  Wall  Street.  She  will  give  you  fifty  cents  more, 
if  you  will  agree  to  deliver  it  there  at  once,  as  it  ia 
of  importance." 

"  All  right,"  said  Ben.     "  I'll  do  it." 

"  Here  is  the  note.  I  suppose  you  had  better  start 
with  it  at  once.  Good-morning." 

"  Good-morning,"  said  Ben,  as  he  held  his  cousin's 
proffered  hand  a  moment  in  his  own.  "  Maybe  I'll 
eee  you  again  some  time." 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  Charles,  kindly. 

A  minute  later  Ben  was  on  his  way  to  t&ks  a 
Fourth  Avenue  car  down  town. 


AMONG   THE    WHARVES*  201 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

LUCK   AND   ILL   LUCK. 

'*  THAT  will  do  very  well  for  a  beginning,"  thought 
Ben,  as  he  surveyed,  with  satisfaction,  the  two  half 
dollars  which  he  had  received  for  his  morning's  ser- 
vices. He  determined  to  save  one  of  them  towards 
the  fund  which  he  hoped  to  accumulate  for  the  object 
which  he  had  in  view.  How  much  he  would  need  he 
could  not  decide ;  but  thought  that  it  would  be  safe 
to>  set  the  amount  at  fifty  dollars.  This  would 
doubtless  require  a  considerable  time  to  obtain.  He 
could  not  expect  to  be  so  fortunate  every  day  as  he 
laad  been  this  morning.-  Some  days,  no  doubt,  he 
would  barely  earn  enough  to  pay  expenses.  Still  he 
had  made  a  beginning,  and  this  was  something 
gained.  It  was  still  more  encouraging  that  he  had 
determined  to  save  money,  and  had  an  inducement  to 
do  so. 

As  Ben   rode  down   town   in  the   horse-cars,   kit 


202  BEN,    THE   LUGGAGE   £OJ ;    07Z, 

thought  of  the  six  years  which  he  had  spent  as  a 
New  York  street  boy ;  and  he  could  not  help  feeling 
that  the  time  had  been  wasted,  so  far  as  any  progress 
or  improvement  was  concerned.  Of  books  he  knew 
less  than  when  he  first  came  to  the  city.  He  kne^ 
more  of  life,  indeed,  but  not  the  best  side  of  life. 
He  had  formed  some  bad  habits,  from  which  he 
would  probably  have  been  saved  if  he  had  remained 
at  home.  Ben  realized  all  at  once  how  much  he  had 
lost  by  his  hasty  action  in  leaving  home.  He  re- 
garded his  street  life  with  different  eyes,  and  felt 
ready  to  give  it  up,  as  soon  as  he  could  present  him- 
self to  his  parents  without  too  great  a  sacrifice  of  hia 
pride. 

At  the  end  of  half  an  hour,  Ben  found  himself  at 
the  termination  of  the  car  route,  opposite  the  lower 
end  of  the  City  Hall  Park. 

As  the  letter  which  he  had  to  deliver  was  to  be 
carried  to  Wall  Street,  he  kept  on  down  Broadway 
till  he  reached  Trinity  Church,  and  then  turned  into 
the  street  opposite.  He  quickly  found  the  number 
indicated,  and  entered  Mr.  Abercrombie's  office.  It 


AMONG   THE    WSARVES.  208 

was  a  handsome  office  on  the  lower  floor.    Two  01 
three  clerks  were  at  work  at  their  desks. 

"  So  this  is  my  brother-in-law's  office,"  thought 
Ben.  "  It's  rather  better  than  mine." 

"Well,  young  man,  what  can  I  do  for  you  to- 
day f"  inquired  a  clerk,  in  a  tone  which  indicated 
that  he  thought  Ben  had  got  into  the  wrong  shop. 

uYou  can  tell  me  whether  your  name  is  Samp- 
son," answered  Ben,  coolly. 

"  No,  it  isn't." 

"  That's  what  I  thought." 

"  Suppose  I  am  not ;  what  then?  " 

"Then  the  letter  I've  got  isn't  for  you,  that'i 
all." 

"  So  you've  got  a  letter,  have  you?  " 

"That's  what  I  said." 

"It  seems  to  me  you're  mighty  independent," 
sneered  the  clerk,  who  felt  aggrieved  that  Ben  did 
not  show  him  the  respect  which  he  conceived  to  be 
his  due. 

"  Thank  you  for  the  compliment,"  said  Ben,  bow« 
ing 

STou  can  hand  me  the  letter." 


204  BEN,    THE   LUGGAGE   SOY;    UR, 

"  I  thought  your  name  wasn't  Sampson." 

"  I'll  hand  it  to  Mr.  Sampson.  He's  gone  out  a 
moment.  He'll  be  in  directly." 

"  Much  obliged,"  said  Ben ;  "  but  I'd  rather  hand 
it  to  Mr.  Sampson  myself.  Business  aint  particu- 
larly pressin'  this  mornin',  so,  if  you'll  hand  me  the 
mornin'  paper,  I'll  read  till  he  comes." 

"  Well,  you've  got  cheek,"  ejaculated  the  clerk. 

"I've  got  two  of 'em  if  I  counted  right  when  I 
got  up,"  said  Ben. 

Here  there  was  a  laugh  from  the  other  two  clerks. 

"  He's  too  smart  for  you,  Granby,"  said  one, 

"  He's  impudent  enough,"  muttered  the  first,  as  he 
withdrew  discomfited  to  his  desk. 

The  enemy  having  retreated,  Ben  sat  down  in 
an  arm-chair,  and,  picking  up  a  paper,  began  to  read. 

He  had  not  long  to  wait.  Five  minutes  had 
scarcely  passed  when  a  man  of  middle  age  entered 
the  office.  His  manner  showed  that  he  belonged 
there. 

"  If  you're  Mr.  Sampson,"  said  Ben,  approaching 
him,  "  here  is  a  letter  for  you." 


AMONG    THE    WQAPVES.  205 

"  That  is  my  name,"  said  the  gentleman,  opening 
the  note  at  once. 

"  You  come  from  Mrs.  Abercrombie,"  he  said, 
glancing  at  Ben,  as  he  finished  reading  it. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Ben. 

"How  did  she  happen  to  select  you  as  her  mes- 
senger?" 

*'  I  went  up  there  this  morning  to  carry  a  valise." 
*  I  have  a  great  mind  to  send  you  back  to  her  with 
«s  Answer ;  but  I  hesitate  on  one  account." 

"  What  is  that?"  asked  Ben. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  you  can  be  trusted." 

"  Nor  I,"  said  Ben  ;  "  but  I'm  willin'  to  run  the  risk." 

"  No  doubt,"  said  Mr.  Sampson,  smiling ;  "  but 
it  seems  to  me  that  I  should  run  a  greater  risk 
ttian  you." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  answered  Ben.  "  If 
it's  money,  and  I  keep  it,  you  can  send  the  copps  after 
me,  and  I'll  be  sent  to  the  Island.  That  would  be 
worse  than  losing  money." 

"  That's  true ;  but  some  of  you  boys  don't  mind 
that.  However,  I  am  inclined  to  trust  you.  Mrs. 
Abercrombie  asks  for  a  sum  of  money,  and  wishes 


206  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE  BOY;   OB, 

me  to  send  it  up  by  one  of  the  clerks.  That  1 
cannot  very  well  do,  as  we  are  particularly  busy  this 
morning.  I  will  put  the  money  in  an  envelope,  and 
give  it  to  you  to  deliver.  I  will  tell  you  beforehand 
that  it  is  fifty  dollars/' 

"  Very  good,"  said  Ben ;  "  Til  give  it  to  her." 

"  Wait  a  moment." 

Mr.  Sampson  went  behind  the  desk,  and  reap- 
peared almost  directly. 

"Mrs.  Abercrombie  will  give  you  a  line  to  me, 
stating  that  she  has  received  the  money.  When  you 
return  with  this,  I  will  pay  you  for  your  trouble." 

"  All  right,"  said  Ben. 

As  he  left  the  office  the  young  clerk  first  men- 
tioned said,  "  I  am  afraid,  Mr.  Sampson,  Mrs.  Aber- 
crombie will  never  see  that  money." 

"Why  not?" 

"  The  boy  will  keep  it." 

"  What  makes  you  think  so?" 

"  He's  one  of  the  most  impudent  young  rascals 
I  ever  saw." 

"  I  didn't  form  that  opinion.  He  was  respectful 
cnougn  to  me." 


AMONG   THE    WHARVES.  207 

"  lie  wasn't  to  me." 

Mr.  Sampson  smiled  a  little.  He  had  observed 
young  Granby's  assumption  of  importance,  and  partly 
guessed  how  matters  stood. 

"  It's  too  late  to  recall  him,"  he  said.  "  I  must 
run  the  risk.  My  own  opinion  is  that  he  will  prove 
faithful." 

Ben  had  accepted  the  commission  gladly,  not  alone 
because  he  would  get  extra  pay  for  the  additional 
errand,  but  because  he  saw  that  there  was  some  hesi 
tation  in  the  mind  of  Mr.  Sampson  about  trusting 
him,  and  he  meant  to  show  himself  worthy  of  confl. 
dence.  There  were  fifty  dollars  in  the  envelope.  He 
had  never  before  been  trusted  with  that  amount  of 
money,  and  now  it  was  rather  because  no  other 
messenger  could  be  conveniently  sent  that  he  found 
himself  so  trusted.  Not  a  thought  of  appropriating 
the  money  came  to  Ben.  True,  it  occurred  to  him 
that  this  was  precisely  the  sum  which  he  needed  to 
fit  him  out  respectably.  But  there  would  be  greater 
cause  for  shame  if  he  appeared  well  dressed  on  stolen 
TOoney,  than  if  he  should  present  himself  in  rags 
to  his  sister.  However,  it  is  only  just  to  Ben  to 


208  Bay,  THE  LUGGAGE  SOT;  osr 

say  that  had  the  party  to  whom  he  was  sent  been  dif« 
fereut,  he  would  have  discharged  his  commission  hon 
orably.  Not  that  he  was  a  model  boy,  but  his  pride, 
which  was  in  some  respects  a  fault  with  him,  here 
served  him  in  good  stead,  as  it  made  him  ashamed  to 
do  a  dishonest  act. 

Ben  rightly  judged  that  the  money  would  be 
needed  as  soon  as  possible,  and,  as  the  distance 
was  great,  he  resolved  to  ride,  trusting  to  Mr. 
Sampson's  liberality  to  pay  him  for  the  expense 
which  he  would  thus  incur  in  addition  to  the  com- 
pensation allowed  for  his  services. 

He  once  more  made  his  way  to  the  station  of 
the  Fourth  Avenue  cars,  and  jumped  aboard  one  just 
ready  to  start. 

The  car  gradually  filled,  and  they  commenced  their 
progress  up  town. 

Ben  took  a  seat  in  the  corner  next  to  the  door. 
Next  to  him  was  a  man  with  black  hair  and  black 
whiskers.  He  wore  a  tall  felt  hat  with  a  bell  crown, 
and  a  long  cloak.  Ben  took  no  particular  notice 
of  him,  being  too  much  in  the  habit  of  seeing  strange 
fiwx;s  to  observe  them  minutely.  The  letter  he  put  in 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  20$ 

the  side  pocket  of  his  coat,  on  the  side  nearest  the 
stranger.  He  took  it  out  <>nce  to  look  at  it.  It  was 
addressed  to  Mrs.  Abercrombie,  at  her  residence, 
and  in  one  corner  Mr.  Sampson  had  written  "  Money 
enclosed." 

Now  it  chanced,  though  Ben  did  not  suspect  it, 
that  the  man  at  his  side  was  a  member  of  the  swell 
mob,  and  his  main  business  was  picking  pockets. 
He  observed  the  two  words,  already  quoted,  on  the 
envelope  when  Ben  took  it  in  his  hand,  and  he  made 
up  his  mind  to  get  possession  of  it.  This  was  com- 
paratively easy,  for  Ben's  pocket  was  on  the  side 
towards  him.  Our  hero  was  rather  careless,  it  must 
be  owned,  but  it  happened  that  the  inside  pocket 
of  his  coat  had  been  torn  away,  which  left  him  no 
other  receptacle  for  the  letter.  Besides,  Ben  had  never 
been  in  a  situation  to  have  much  fear  of  pick 
pockets,  and  under  ordinary  circumstances  he  would 
hardly  have  been  selected  as  worth  plundering.  But 
the  discovery  that  the  letter  contained  money  altered 
the  case. 

While  Ben  was  looking  out  from  the  opposite  win* 

dow  across  the  street,  the  stranger  dexterously  In- 
H 


210  BEN)    THE  LUGGAGE  BOY;    OR, 

serted  Ms  hand  in  his  pocket,  and  withdrew  the 
letter.  They  were  at  that  moment  just  opposite  the 
Tombs. 

Having  gained  possession  of  the  letter,  of  course 
it  was  his  interest  to  get  out  of  the  car  as  soon  as 
possible,  since  Ben  was  liable  at  any  moment  to  dis- 
cover his  loss. 

He  touched  the  conductor,  who  was  just  returning 
from  the  other  end  of  the  car,  after  collecting  the 
rares. 

"  ril  get  out  here,"  he  said. 

The  conductor  accordingly  pulled  the  strap,  and 
the  car  stopped. 

The  stranger  gathered  his  cloak  about  him,  and, 
stepping  out  on  the  platform,  jumped  from  the  car. 
Just  at  that  moment  Ben  put  his  hand  into  his 
pocket,  and  instantly  discovered  the  loss  of  the 
letter.  He  immediately  connected  it  with  the  de- 
parture of  his  fellow-passenger,  and,  with  a  hasty 
ejaculation,  sprang  from  the  car,  and  started  in 
pursuit  of  him. 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  211 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

WHICH   IS  THE   GUILTY   PARTY! 

IT  was  an  exciting  moment  for  Ben.  H«  ttoft  that 
his  character  for  honesty  was  at  stake.  In  6A»o  the 
pickpocket  succeeded  in  getting  off  with  the  letter 
and  money,  Mr.  Sampson  would  no  doubt  come  to 
the  conclusion  that  he  had  appropriated  the  fifty 
dollars  to  his  own  use,  while  his  story  of  the  robbery 
would  be  regarded  as  an  impudent  fabrication.  He 
might  even  be  arrested,  and  sentenced  to  the  Island 
for  theft.  If  this  should  happen,  though  he  were 
innocent,  Ben  felt  that  he  should  not  be  willing  to 
make  himself  known  to  his  sister  or  his  parents. 
But  there  was  a  chance  of  getting  back  the  money, 
and  he  resolved  to  do  his  best. 

The  pickpocket  turned  down  a  side  street,  his 
object  being  to  get  out  of  the  range  of  observation  aa 
soon  as  possible.  But  one  thing  he  did  not  antici- 
pate, an/1  this  was  Ben's  immediate  discovery  of  hi§ 


212  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE  SOT;   OR, 

loss.  On  this  subject  he  was  soon  enlightened.  He 
saw  Ben  jump  from  the  horse-car,  and  his  first  im- 
pulse was  to  run.  He  made  a  quick  movement  in 
advance,  and  then  paused.  It  occurred  to  him  that 
he  occupied  a  position  of  advantage  with  regard  to 
his  accuser,  being  respectably  dressed,  while  Ben 
was  merely  a  ragged  street  boy,  whose  word  probably 
would  not  inspire  much  confidence.  This  vantage 
ground  he  would  give  up  by  having  recourse  to 
flight,  as  this  would  be  a  virtual  acknowledgment 
of  guilt.  He  resolved  instantaneously  to  assume  an 
attitude  of  conscious  integrity,  and  frown  down  upon 
Ben  from  the  heights  of  assumed  respectability. 
There  was  one  danger,  however,  that  he  was  known 
to  some  of  the  police  force  in  his  true  character. 
But  he  must  take  the  risk  of  recognition. 

On  landing  in  the  middle  of  the  street,  Ben  lost  no 
time  ;  but,  running  up  to  the  pickpocket,  caught  him 
by  the  arm. 

"What  do  you  want,  boy?"  he  demanded,  in  a 
tone  of  indifference. 

"  I  want  my  money,"  said  Ben. 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  213 

"  I  don't  understand  you,"  said  the  pickpocket 
loftily. 

"  Look  aere,  mister,"  said  Ben,  impatiently ;  "  you 
know  well  enough  what  I  mean.  You  took  a  letter 
with  money  in  it  out  of  my  pocket.  Just  hand  it 
back,  and  I  won't  say  anything  about  it." 

"  You're  an  impudent  young  rascal,"  returned  th« 
"gentleman,"  affecting  to  be  outraged  by  such  a 
charge.  "  Do  you  dare  to  accuse  a  gentleman  lik« 
me  of  robbing  a  ragmuffin  like  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  said  Ben,  boldly. 

"Then  you're  either  crazy  or  impudent,  I  don't 
know  which." 

"  Call  me  what  you  please ;  but  give  me  back  my 
money." 

44 1  don't  believe  you  ever  had  five  dollars  in  your 
possession.  How  much  do  you  mean  to  say  there 
was  in  this  letter?" 

"  Fifty  dollars,"  answered  Ben. 

The  pickpocket  had  an  object  in  asking  this  quea 
tion ,  He  wanted  to  learn  whether  the  sum  of  money 
was  sufficient  to  make  it  worth  his  while  to  keep  it 
Had  :**  been  three  or  four  dollars,  he  might  have 


214  BEN)    THE  LUGGAGE  EOT;    OJS, 

given  it  up,  to  avoid  risk  and  trouble.  But  on  find- 
ing that  it  was  fifty  dollars  he  determined  to  hold  on 
to  it  at  all  hazards. 

"  Clear  out,  boy,"  he  said,  fiercely.  "  I  shan't 
stand  any  of  your  impudence." 

"  Give  me  my  money,  then." 

"  If  you  don't  stop  that,  I'll  knock  you  down," 
repeated  the  pickpocket,  shaking  off  Ben's  grasp, 
and  moving  forward  rapidly. 

If  he  expected  to  frighten  our  hero  away  thus 
easily,  he  was  very  much  mistaken.  Ben  had  too 
much  at  stake  to  give  up  the  attempt  to  recover  the 
letter.  He  ran  forward,  and,  seizing  the  man  by  the 
arm,  he  reiterated,  in  a  tone  of  firm  determination, 
•*'  Give  me  my  money,  or  I'll  call  a  copp." 

"  Take  that,  you  young  villain ! "  exclaimed  the 
badgered  thief,  bringing  his  fist  in  contact  with 
Ben's  face  in  such  a  manner  as  to  cause  the  blood  to 
flow. 

In  a  physical  contest  it  was  clear  that  Ben  would 
get  the  worst  of  it.  He  was  but  a  boy  of  sixteen, 
strong,  indeed,  of  his  age ;  but  still  what  could  he 
expect  to  accomplish  against  a  tall  man  of  mature 


AMONG    THE    WHAMVES.  215 

»ge  ?  He  saw  that  he  needed  help,  and  he  called  out 
4t  the  top  of  his  lungs,  "  Help  !  Police ! " 

His  antagonist  was  adroit,  and  a  life  spent  in 
eluding  the  law  had  made  him  quick-witted.  He 
turned  the  tables  upon  Ben  by  turning  round,  grasp- 
ing him  firmly  by  the  arm,  and  repeating  in  a  voice 
louder  than  Ben's,  "  Help !  Police  !  " 

Contrary  to  the  usual  custom  in  such  cases,  a 
policeman  happened  to  be  near,  and  hurried  to  th« 
§pot  where  he  was  apparently  wanted. 

"  What's  the  row?  "  he  asked. 

Before  Ben  had  time  to  prefer  his  charge,  th« 
pickpocket  said  glibly :  — 

44  Policeman,  I  give  this  boy  in  charge." 

"  What's  he  been  doing?" 

"I  caught  him  with  his  hand  in  my  pocket," 
said  the  man.  "  He's  a  thieving  young  vagabond." 

"  That's  a  lie  I "  exclaimed  Ben,  rather  startled 
at  the  unexpected  turn  which  affairs  had  taken. 
"  He's  A  pickpocket." 

The  real  culprit  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "You 
tint  quite  smart  enough,  boy,"  he  said. 

*•  Has  he   taken  anything  of  yours  ? "    asked   the 


216  A»JV,    THE  LUGGAGE  SOT;   OJt, 

policeman,  who  supposed  Ben  to  be  what  he  wa§ 
represented. 

"No,"  said  the  pickpocket;  "but  he  came  near 
taking  a  money  letter  which  I  have  in  my  pocket." 

Here,  with  astonishing  effrontery,  he  displayed 
the  letter  which  he  had  stolen  from  Ben. 

"  That's  my  letter,"  said  Ben.  "  He  took  it  from 
my  pocket." 

"A  likely  story,"  smiled  the  pickpocket,  in 
«erene  superiority.  "The  letter  is  for  Mrs.  Aber- 
eronibie,  a  friend  of  mine,  and  contains  fifty 
dollars.  I  incautiously  wrote  upon  the  envelope 
4  Money  enclosed,'  which  attracted  the  attention 
of  this  young  vagabond,  as  I  held  it  in  my  ha  ad. 
On  replacing  it  in  my  pocket,  he  tried  to  get 
possession  of  it." 

"  That's  a  lie  from  beginning  to  end,"  exclaimed 
Ben,  impetuously.  "He's  tryin*  to  make  me  out  a 
thief,  when  he's  one  himself." 

"  Well,  what  is  your  story  ?  "  asked  the  policeman, 
who,  however,  had  already  decided  in  his  own 
mind  that  Ben  was  the  guilty  party. 

u 1  was  ridin'  in  the  Fourth  Avenue  cars   along 


AMONG    THE    WHARYBS.  217 

§»d<3  of  this  man,"  said  Ben,  u  when  he  put  his  hand 
in  my  pocket,  and  took  out  the  letter  that  he's  just 
showed  you.  I  jumped  out  after  him,  and  asked 
him  to  give  it  back,  when  he  fetched  me  a  lick  in 
the  face." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  a  ragamuffin  like  you 
had  fifty  dollars?  "  demanded  the  thief. 

"  No,"  said  Ben,  "  the  money  wasn't  mine.  1 
was  carryin'  it  up  to  Mrs.  Abercrombie,  who  liyei 
on  Madison  Avenue." 

"It's  a  likely  story  that  a  ragamuffin  like  yoq 
would  be  trusted  with  so  much  money." 

"  If  you  don't  believe  it,"  said  Ben,  "  go  to  Mr. 
Abercrombie's  office  in  Wall  Street.  Mr.  Sampson 
gave  it  to  me  only  a  few  minutes  ago.  If  he  says 
he  didn't,  just  carry  me  to  the  station-house  aa 
quick  as  you  want  to." 

This  confident  assertion  of  Ben's  put  matters  in 
rather  a  different  light.  It  seemed  straightforward, 
and  the  reference  might  easily  prove  which  was 
the  real  culprit.  The  pickpocket  saw  that  the 
officer  wavered,  and  rejoined  hastily,  "You  must 


218  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE   BOY,'   OJt, 

expect  the  officer's  a  fool  to  believe  your  ridiculous 
story." 

"It's  not  so  ridiculous,"  answered  the  policeman, 
scrutinizing  the  speaker  with  sudden  suspicion.  "  I 
am  not  sure  but  the  boy  is  right." 

"  I'm  willing  .to  let  the  matter  drop,"  said  the 
pickpocket,  magnanimously;  "as  he  didn't  succeed 
in  getting  my  money,  I  will  not  prosecute.  You 
may  let  him  go,  Mr.  Officer." 

"  Not  so  fast,"  said  the  policeman,  his  suspicions 
of  the  other  party  getting  stronger  and  more  clearly 
defined.  "I  haven't  any  authority  to  do  as  yon 
say." 

"  Very  well,  take  him  along  then.  I  suppose  the 
law  must  take  its  course." 

"  Yes,  it  must." 

"Very  well,  boy,    I'm    sorry    you've    got    into 
such   a  scrape;    but  it's  your  own    fault.     Good 
morning,  officer." 

"  You're  in  too  much  of  a  hurry,"  said  the  police- 

«n,  coolly  ;  "  you  must  go  along  with  me  too." 

'Really,"    said   the    thief,   nervously,   "I    hope 
you'll   excuse  me.     I've  got  an   important  engage- 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES*  219 

inent  this    morning,   and  —  I — in    fact  it  will   bf 
excessively  inconvenient." 

"I'm  sorry  to  put  you  to  inconvenience,  but  it 
can't  be  helped." 

"  Really,  Mr.  Officer  —  " 

"  It's  no  use.  I  shall  need  you.  Oblige  me  bj 
handing  me  that  letter." 

"Here  it  is,"  said  the  thief,  unwillingly  tor 
rendering  it.  "Really,  it's  excessively  provoking 
I'd  rather  lose  the  money  than  break  my  engage* 
ment.  I'll  promise  to  be  on  hand  at  the  trial, 
whenever  it  comes  off;  if  you  keep  the  money 
it  will  be  a  guaranty  of  my  appearance." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  answered  the  officer 
u  As  to  being  present  at  the  trial,  I  mean  that  you 
shall  be." 

"  Of  course,  I  promised  that." 

"  There's  one  little  matter  you  seem  to  forget,* 
said  the  officer;  "your  appearance  may  be  quit* 
as  necessary  as  the  boy's.  It  may  be  youi  trial 
and  not  his." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  insult  me  ? "  demanded  th« 
pickpocket,  haughtily. 


120  BEN)    THE  LUGGAGE  BOY;   OJR, 

"Not  by  no  manner  of  means.  I  aint  the  judge, 
you  know.  If  your  story  is  all  right,  it'll  appear 
so." 

"  Of  course ;  but  I  shall  have  to  break  my  en- 
gagement." 

"Well,  that  can't  be  helped  as  I  see.  Come 
along,  if  you  please." 

He  tucked  one  arm  in  that  of  the  man,  and  the 
other  in  Ben's,  and  moved  towards  the  station- 
house.  Of  the  two  Ben  seemed  to  be  much  the 
more  unconcerned.  He  was  confident  that  his 
innocence  would  be  proclaimed,  while  the  other 
was  equally  convinced  that  trouble  awaited  him. 

"  Well,  boy,  how  do  you  like  going  to  the 
station-house  ?  "  asked  the  policeman. 

"I  don't  mind  as  long  as  he  goes  with  me," 
answered  Ben.  "What  I  was  most  afraid  of  was 
that  I'd  lose  the  money,  and  then  Mr.  Sampson 
would  have  taken  me  for  a  thief." 

Meanwhile  the  other  party  was  rapidly  getting 
more  and  more  nervous.  He  felt  that  he  was 
marching  to  his  fate,  and  that  the  only  way  of 
escape  was  by  flight,  and  that  immediate ;  for  they 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  221 

were  very  near  the  station-house.  Just  as  Ben 
pronounced  the  last  words,  the  thief  gathered  all  his 
strength,  and  broke  from  the  grasp  of  the  officer, 
whose  hold  was  momentarily  relaxed.  Once  free 
he  showed  an  astonishing  rapidity. 

The  officer  hesitated  for  an  instant,  for  he  had 
another  prisoner  to  guard. 

44  Go  after  him,"  exclaimed  Ben,  eagerly.  "  Don't 
let  him  escape.  I'll  stay  where  I  am." 

The  conviction  that  the  escaped  party  was  the 
real  thief  determined  the  policeman  to  follow  Ber/a 
advice.  He  let  him  go,  and  started  in  rapid  pur- 
suit of  the  fugitive. 

Ben  sat  down  on  a  doorstep,  and   awaited 
?ously  the  result  of  the  chase. 


222  JJW,    THE   LUGGAGE   SOT;    OJJ, 


CHAPTER  XX. 

HOW  ALL  CAME   RIGHT   IN  THE   MORNING. 

IT  ts  quite  possible  that  the  pickpocket  would 
have  made  good  his  escape,  if  he  had  not,  unluckily 
for  himself,  run  into  another  policeman. 

"  Beg  your  pardon,"  he  said,  hurriedly. 

"Stop  a  minute,"  said  the  officer,  detaining  him 
by  the  arm,  for  his  appearance  and  haste  inspired 
suspicion.  He  was  bare-headed,  for  his  hat  had 
fallen  off,  and  he  had  not  deemed  it  prudent  to  stop 
long  enough  to  pick  it  up. 

"  I'm  in  a  great  hurry,"  panted  the  thief.  "  My 
youngest  child  is  in  a  fit,  and  I  am  running  for  a 
physician." 

This  explanation  seemed  plausible,  and  the 
policeman,  who  was  himself  *,he  father  of  a  family, 
was  on  the  point  of  releasing  him,  when  the  first 
officer  came  up. 


AMONG   THE    WHARVES.  223 

"Hold  on  to  him,"  he  said;  "he's  just  broken 
away  from  me." 

"That's  it,  is  it?"  said  the  second  policeman. 
"  He  told  me  he  was  after  a  doctor  for  his  youngest 
child." 

"  I  think  he'll  need  a  doctor  himself,"  said  th« 
first,  "  if  he  tries  another  of  his  games.  You  didn't 
atop  to  say  good-by,  my  man." 

"I  told  you  I  had  an  important  engagement," 
said  the  pickpocket,  sulkily,  —  "  one  that  I  cared  mow 
about  than  the  money.  Where's  the  boy  ?  " 

"  I  had  to  leave  him  to  go  after  you." 

"  That's  a  pretty  way  to  manage ;  you  let  the 
thief  go  in  order  to  chase  his  victim." 

"You're  an  able-bodied  victim,"  said  the  police- 
man, laughing. 

"  Where  are  you  taking  me?  " 

"  I'm  going  back  for  the  boy.  He  said  he'd  wait 
till  I  returned." 

"  Are  you  green  enough  to  think  you'll  find  him?" 
sneered  the  man  in  charge. 

"  Perhaps  not ;  but  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  ] 


224  3&3T,    THE   LUGGAGE  BOY /    OJt, 

did.  If  I  guess  right,  he'll  find  it  worth  his  whik 
fco  keep  his  promise." 

When  they  returned  to  the  place  where  the  thief 
had  first  effected  his  escape,  our  hero  was  found 
quietly  sitting  on  a  wooden  step. 

"  So  you've  got  him,"  said  Ben,  advancing  to 
meet  the  officer  with  evident  satisfaction. 

"He's  got  you  too,"  growled  the  pickpocket. 
M  Why  didn't  you  run  away,  you  little  fool  ?  " 

'*  I  didn't  have  anything  to  run  for,"  answered 
Ben.  "  Besides,  I  want  my  money  back." 

"Then  you'll  have  to  go  with  me  to  the  station- 
house,"  said  the  officer. 

"I  wish  I  could  go  to  Mr.  Abercrombie's  office 
first  to  tell  Mr.  Sampson  what's  happened." 

"I  can't  let  you  do  that;  but  you  may  write  a 
Letter  from  the  station-house." 

"All  right,"  said  Ben,  cheerfully;  and  he  vol- 
untarily placed  himself  on  the  other  side  of  the 
officer,  and  accompanied  him  to  the  station-house. 

"I  thought  you  was  guilty  at  first,"  said  the 
officer;  "but  I  guess  your  story  is  correct.  If  it 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  225 

isn't,  you're  about  the  coolest  chap  I  ever  saw,  ami 
I've  seen  some  cool  ones  in  my  day.' 

"  It's  just  as  I  said,"  said  Ben.  "  It'll  all  come 
right  in  the  morning." 

They  soon  reached  the  station-house.  Ben  ob 
tained  the  privilege  of  writing  a  letter  to  Mr. 
Sampson,  for  which  the  officer  undertook  to  procure 
a  messenger.  In  fact  he  began  to  feel  quite 
interested  for  our  hero,  feeling  fully  convinced 
that  the  other  party  was  the  real  offender. 

Ben  found  some  difficulty  in  writing  his  letter. 
When  he  first  came  to  the  city,  he  could  have 
written  one  with  considerable  ease,  but  he  had 
scarcely  touched  a  pen,  or  formed  a  letter,  for  six 
years,  and  of  course  this  made  an  important  dif- 
ference. However  he  finally  managed  to  write 
these  few  lines  with  a  lead-pencil :  — 

4tMR.  SAMPSON:  I  am  sory  I  can't  cary  that 
leter  til  to-morrow ;  but  it  was  took  from  my  pokit 
by  a  thefe  wen  I  was  ridin'  in  the  cars,  and  as  he 
aed  I  took  it  from  him,  the  '  copp '  has  brort 

on  both  to  the  stashun-house,  whare  I  hope  you  wil 
11 


226  BEST,    THE   LUGGAGE   BOY;    OR, 

come  and  tel  them  how  it  was,  and  that  you   give 
me  the  leter  to  cary,  for  the  other  man  says  it  is  Ms 

The  '  copp*  took  the  leter 

"  BEN  HOOPER." 

It  will  be  observed  that  Ben's  spelling  had 
suffered ;  but  this  will  not  excite  surprise,  consider- 
ing how  long  it  was  since  he  had  attended  school. 
It  will  also  be  noticed  that  he  did  not  sign  his  real 
name,  but  used  the  same  which  he  had  communi- 
cated to  Charles  Marston.  More  than  ever,  till  he 
was  out  of  his  present  difficulty,  he  desired  to 
conceal  his  identity  from  his  relations. 

Meanwhile,  Mr.  Sampson  was  busily  engaged  in 
his  office  in  Wall  Street.  It  may  as  well  be  explained 
here  that  he  was  the  junior  partner  of  Mr.  Aber- 
crombie.  Occasionally  he  paused  in  his  business  to 
wonder  whether  he  had  done  well  to  expose  a  ragged 
street  boy  to  such  a  temptation  ;  but  he  was  a  large- 
hearted  man,  inclined  to  think  well  of  his  fellow-men, 
and  though  in  his  business  life  he  had  seen  a  good 
deal  that  was  mean  and  selfish  in  the  conduct  of 
others,  he  had  never  lost  his  confidence  in  human 
nature,  and  never  would.  It  is  better  to  have  sucfc 


AMONG   THE    WHARVES.  227 

A  disposition,  even  if  it  does  expose  the  possessor  to 
being  imposed  upon  at  times,  than  to  regard  every- 
body with  distrust  and  suspicion.  At  any  rate  it 
promotes  happiness,  and  conciliates  good-will,  and 
these  will  offset  an  occasional  deception. 

An  hour  had  passed,  when  a  boy  presented  himself 
at  Mr.  Abercrombie's  office.  It  was  a  newsboy,  who 
had  been  intrusted  with  Ben's  letter. 

"  This  is  for  Mr.  Sampson,"  he  said,  looking  around 
him  on  entering. 

"Another  of  Mr.  Sampson's  friends,"  sneered 
Granby,  in  a  tone  which  he  took  care  should  be  too 
low  to  come  to  that  gentleman's  ears. 

"  My  name  is  Sampson,"  said  the  owner  of  that 
name.  "  Who  is  your  letter  from  ?  " 

"  It's  from  Ben." 

"  And  who  is  Ben?  "  asked  Mr.  Sampson,  not  much 
enlightened. 

"  It's  Ben,  the  baggage-smasher." 

"  Give  it  to  me,"  said  the  gentleman,  conjecturing 
rightly  that  it  was  his  messenger  who  was  meant. 

He  ran  his  eye  rapidly  over  the  paper,  or,  I  should 


228  BEN)    THE   LUGGAGE   BOY,'    Oft, 

say,  as  rapidly  as  the  character  of  Ben's  writing  would 
permit. 

"  Do  you  come  from  the  station-house?"  he  asked, 
looking  up. 

«  Yes,  sir." 

44  Which  station-house  is  it?" 

"  In  Leonard  Street." 

44  Very  well.  Go  back  and  tell  the  boy  that  I  will 
call  this  afternoon.  I  will  also  give  you  a  line  to  * 
Louae  on  Madison  Avenue.  Can  you  go  right  up 
there,  calling  at  the  station-house  on  the  way?" 

44  Yes,  sir." 

"  Very  well.    Here  is  something  for  your  trouble." 

The  bo}r  pocketed  with  satisfaction  the  money 
proffered  him,  and  took  the  letter  which  Mr.  Sampson 
hastily  wrote.  It  was  to  this  effect :  — 

"Mr  DEAR  MRS.  ABERCROMBIE:  I  received  your 
note,  and  despatched  the  money  which  you  desired  by 
a  messenger ;  but  I  have  just  learned  that  his  pocket 
was  picked  on  the  horse-cars.  I  cannot  spare  one  of 
my  clerks  just  now,  but  at  one  o'clock  will  send  one 
up  with  the  money,  hoping  that  he  may  have  better 


AMONG   THE    WHARVES.  229 

toitune  than  the  first  messenger,  and  that  you  will 
not  be  seriously  inconvenienced  by  the  delay. 
"  Yours  truly, 

"HENRY  SAMPSON." 

Then  he  dismissed  the  matter  from  his  mind  until 
afternoon,  when,  the  office  having  closed,  he  made  hie 
way  to  the  Leonard  Street  station-house,  where  he 
was  speedily  admitted  to  see  Ben. 

"  I'm  glad  you've  come,  Mr.  Sampson,"  said  oar 
hero,  eagerly.  "I  hope  you  don't  think  I  was  to 
blame  about  the  letter." 

"  Tell  me  how  it  was,  my  lad,"  said  Mr.  Sampson, 
kindly.  "  I  dare  say  you  can  give  me  a  satisfactory 
explanation." 

Ben  felt  grateful  for  the  kindness  of  his  tone.  He 
saw  that  he  was  not  condemned  unheard,  but  had  a 
chance  of  clearing  himself. 

He  explained,  briefly,  how  it  occurred.  Of  course 
it  is  unnecessary  to  give  his  account,  for  we  know  aft- 
about  it  already. 

"  I  believe  you,"  said  Mr.  Sampson,  in  a  friendly 
tone.  "  The  only  fault  I  have  to  find  with  you  i* 


230  BEN)    THE  LUGGAGE  BOY;   OR, 

that  jo  u  might  have  been  more  careful  in  guarding 
your  pockets." 

"That's  so,  "said  Ben;  "but  I  don't  often  carry 
anything  that's  worth  stealing." 

"  No,  I  suppose  not,"  said  Mr.  Sampson,  smiling. 
"  Well,  it  appears  that  no  serious  loss  has  occurred. 
The  money  will  be  recovered,  as  it  is  in  the  hands  of 
the  authorities.  As  to  the  delay,  that  is  merely  an 
inconvenience;  but  the  most  serious  inconvenience 
falls  upon  you,  in  your  being  brought  here." 

"  I  don't  mind  that  as  long  as  the  money  is  safe," 
said  Ben.  "  It'll  all  be  right  in  the  morning." 

"  I  see  you  are  a  philosopher.  I  see  your  face  U 
swelled.  You  must  have  got  a  blow." 

"  Yes,"  said  Ben  ;  "  the  chap  that  took  my  letter 
left  me  something  to  remember  him  by." 

"I  shall  try  to  make  it  up  to  you,"  said  Mr. 
Sampson.  "  I  can't  stop  any  longer,  but  I  will  be 
present  at  your  trial,  and  my  testimony  will  undoubt- 
edly clear  you." 

He  took  his  leave,  leaving  Ben  considerably  more 
cheerful  than  before.  A  station-house  is  not  a  very 
agreeable  place  of  detention ;  but  then  Ben  was  not 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  231 

accustomed  to  luxury,  and  the  absence  of  comfort 
did  not  trouble  him  much.  He  cared  more  for  the 
loss  of  his  liberty,  finding  the  narrow  cell  somewhat 
too  restricted  for  enjoyment.  However,  he  consoled 
himself  by  reflecting,  to  use  his  favorite  phrase,  that 
it  would  "  all  be  right  in  the  morning." 

It  will  not  be  necessary  to  give  a  circumstantial 
account  of  Ben's  trial.  Mr.  Sampson  was  faithful 
to  his  promise,  and  presented  himself,  somewhat  to 
his  personal  inconvenience,  at  the  early  hour  assigned 
for  trial.  His  testimony  was  brief  and  explicit,  and 
cleared  Ben.  The  real  pickpocket,  however,  being 
recognized  by  the  judge  as  one  who  had  been  up 
before  him  some  months  before,  charged  with  a  simi- 
lar offence,  was  sentenced  to  a  term  of  imprisonment, 
considerably  to  his  dissatisfaction. 

Ben  left  the  court-room  well  pleased  with  the 
result.  His  innocence  had  been  established,  and  he 
had  proved  that  he  could  be  trusted,  or  rather,  he 
had  not  proved  faithless  to  his  trust,  and  he  felt  that 
with  his  present  plans  and  hopes  he  could  not 
afford  to  lose  his  character  for  honesty.  He  kneif 


232  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE   BOY;    0J2, 

that  be  Lad  plenty  of  faults,  but  at  any  rate  be  was 
not  a  thief. 

While  he  stood  on  the  steps  of  the  Toinbs,  in  which 
the  trial  had  taken  place,  Mr.  Sampson  advanced 
towards  him,  and  touched  him  on  the  shoulder. 

"  Well,  my  lad,"  he  said,  in  a  friendly  manner, 
"  so  you're  all  right  once  more  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Ben ;  "  I  knew  it  would  all  be  right  in 
the  morning." 

"  I  owe  you  something  for  the  inconvenience  you 
have  suffered  while  in  my  employ.  Here  is  a  ten- 
dollar  bill.  I  hope  you  will  save  it  till  you  need  it, 
and  won't  spend  it  foolishly." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Ben,  joyfully.  "  Til  put  it  in 
the  bank." 

"  That  will  be  a  good  plan.  Good-morning  ;  when 
you  need  a  friend,  you  will  know  where  to  find  me." 

He  shook  Ben's  hand  in  a  friendly  way  and  left 
him. 

"  He's  a  trump,"  thought  Ben.  "  If  my  fathead 
treated  me  like  that,  I'd  never  have  wanted  to  run 
away  from  home." 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

IN  A  NEW   LINE. 

"  TEN  dollars ! "  said  Ben  to  himself,  with  exulta* 
tion.  "  That's  pretty  good  pay  for  a  few  hours  in 
the  station-house.  I'd  like  to  board  there  a  week  on 
the  same  terms." 

Ben's  capital  now  amounted  to  eleven  dollars ;  but 
of  this  sum  he  decided  to  retain  one  dollar  as  a  re- 
serve to  fall  back  upon  in  case  of  need.  The  tec 
dollars  he  determined  to  deposit  at  once  in  a  savings- 
bank.  He  accordingly  bent  his  steps  towards  one 
in  the  course  of  the  forenoon.  The  business  was 
quickly  transacted,  and  Ben  left  the  building  with  a 
bank-book  containing  an  entry  of  his  first  deposit. 

This  was  a  very  good  beginning,  so  Ben  thought. 
Fifty  dollars,  as  he  had  estimated,  would  enable  him 
to  carry  out  the  plan  which  he  proposed,  and  he  had 
already  one-fifth  of  the  sum.  But  the  accumulation 
of  the  otlier  forty  dollars  would  no  doubt  take  him  a 


234  BEN,    THE   LUGGAGE  BOY;   OR, 

considerable  time.  The  business  of  a  "  baggage 
smasher,"  as  Ben  knew  from  experience,  is  precari- 
ous, the  amount  of  gains  depending  partly  upon  luck. 
He  had  sometimes  haunted  the  steamboat  landings 
for  hours  without  obtaining  a  single  job.  Now  that 
he  was  anxious  to  get  on,  he  felt  this  to  be  an  objec- 
tion. He  began  to  consider  whether  there  was  any 
way  of  adding  to  his  income. 

After  considerable  thought  he  decided  to  buy  a 
supply  of  weekly  papers,  which  he  could  sell  while 
waiting  for  a  job.  One  advantage  in  selecting  weekly 
papers  rather  than  daily  was  this,  that  the  latter 
must  be  sold  within  a  few  hours,  or  they  prove  a 
dead  loss.  A  daily  paper  of  yesterday  is  as  unsala- 
ble as  a  last  year's  almanac.  As  Ben  was  liable  to 
be  interrupted  in  his  paper  business  at  any  time  by  a 
chance  to  carry  luggage,  it  was  an  important  consid- 
eration to  have  a  stock  which  would  remain  fresh  for 
a  few  days. 

This  idea  impressed  Ben  so  favorably  that  he 
determined  to  act  upon  it  at  once.  In  considering 
where  he  should  go  for  his  supply  of  papers,  he 
thought  of  a  Broadway  news-stand,  which  he  fre* 


AMONG   THE    WHARVES.  235 

quently  had  occasion  to  pass.  On  reaching  it,  he 
said  to  the  proprietor,  "  Where  do  you  buy  your 
papers  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  want  to  know  for  ?  " 

"  I  thought  maybe  I'd  go  into  the  business." 

"  You  don't  think  of  setting  up  a  stand,  do  you?" 
asked  the  man,  with  a  significant  glance  at  Ben* a 
ragged  attire. 

44  No,"  said  Ben.  "  I  haven't  got  capital  enough 
for  that,  unless  you'll  sell  out  for  fifty  cents." 

44 1  suppose  you  want  a  few  to  carry  round  aad 
sell?" 

44  Yes." 

44  Where  do  you  think  of  going  with  them?  " 

"  Down  to  the  wharves.  I'm  a  baggage-smasher, 
and  I  thought  I  might  make  somethin'  by  sellin* 
papers,  when  I  hadn't  any  baggage  to  carry." 

44  I  get  my  papers  from  the  4  American  News 
Company '  on  Nassau  Street." 

"  I  know  the  place  well  enough." 

"  What  papers  do  you  think  I  could  sell  best?' 
asked  Ben. 

44  The  picture  papers  go  off  as  fast  as  any,"  said 


236  BEN)    THE   LUGGAGE   BOY /    OJ2, 

the  stieet  dealer.  "  But  I'll  tell  you  what,  my  lad, 
maybe  I  can  make  an  arrangement  for  you  to  sell 
papers  for  me." 

"  I  don't  think  I'd  like  to  stand  here  all  day," 
said  Ben,  supposing  the  other  to  mean  to  engage 
him  to  tend  the  stand. 

"  I  don't  mean  that." 

"  Well/'  said  Ben,  "  I'm  open  to  an  offer,  as  the 
old  maid  of  sixty  told  a  feller  that  called  to  see  L^r." 

"  Fll  tell  you  what  I  mean.  I'll  give  you  a  bundle 
of  papers  every  morning  to  take  with  you.  You 
will  sell  what  you  can,  and  bring  back  the  rest  at 
night." 

"I  like  that,"  said  Ben,  with  satisfaction.  ''But 
how  much  will  I  get?" 

"  It  will  depend  on  the  price  of  the  papers.  '  Har- 
per's Weekly '  and  '  Frank  Leslie '  sell  for  ten  cents.  I 
will  allow  you  two  cents  on  each  of  these.  On 
the  '  Ledger '  and  '  Weekly,'  and  other  papers  of  that 
price,  I  will  allow  one  cent.  You'd  make  rather  more 
if  you  bought  them  yourself;  but  you  might  hav« 
them  left  on  your  hands." 

"  That's  so,"  said  Ben. 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  257 

"  Did  you  ever  sell  papers?  " 

"I  uiied  to  sell  the  mornin*  and  evenin'  papers 
before  I  went  to  baggage-smashin'." 

"  Then  you  know  something  about  the  business. 
When  do  you  want  to  begin?" 

"  Right  off." 

41  Very  well ;  I  will  make  you  up  a  bundle  of  a 
dcsen  papers  to  begin  on.  I'll  put  in  three  each 
of  the  illustrated  papers,  and  fill  up  with  the  story 
papers." 

"  All  right,  mister,  you  know  better  than  I  what 
people  will  buy." 

The  dealer  began  to  collect  the  papers,  but  paused 
in  the  middle  of  his  task,  and  looked  doubtfully  at 
our  hero. 

"  Well,  what's  up?  "  asked  Ben,  observing  his  hesi- 
tation. 

"  How  do  I  know  but  you'll  sell  the  papers,  and 
keep  the  money  yourself?  "  said  the  dealer. 

"  That's  so,"  said  Ben.     "  I  never  thought  of  that." 

"  That  wouldn't  be  very  profitable  for  me,  yoq 


238  BEN)    THE  LUGGAGE   EOT;   Olt> 

*l  I'll  bring  back  the  money  or  the  papers,'*  said 
Ben.  "  You  needn't  be  afraid." 

"  Very  likely  you  would ;  but  how  am  I  to  know 
that?" 

"  So  you  don't  want  to  trust  me,"  said  Ben,  rather 
disappointed. 

"Have  you  got  any  money?" 

"Yes." 

"Very  well,  you  can  leave  enough  with  me  to 
secure  me  against  loss,  and  I  will  give  you  the 
papers." 

"  How  much  will  that  be?" 

After  a  little  thought,  the  dealer  answered,  "  Sev- 
enty-five cents."  He  had  some  doubt  whether  Ben 
had  so  much;  but  our  hero  quickly  set  his  doubts 
at  rest  by  drawing  out  his  two  half-dollars,  and  de- 
manding a  quarter  in  change. 

The  sight  of  this  money  reassured  the  dealer. 
Ben's  ragged  clothes  had  led  him  to  doubt  his  finan- 
cial soundness ;  but  the  discovery  that  he  was  a 
capitalist  to  the  extent  of  a  dollar  gave  him  consid- 
erable more  respect  for  him.  A  dollar  may  not  be  a 
very  large  sum;  I  hope  that  to  you,  my  young 


AMONG   THE    WHARVES.  289 

reader,  it  is  a  very  small  one,  and  that  you  have 
never  been  embarrassed  for  the  want  of  it ;  but  it  is 
enough  to  lift  a  ragged  street  boy  from  the  position 
of  a  penniless  vagabond  to  that  of  a  thrifty  capital- 
ist. After  seeing  it,  the  dealer  would  almost  have 
felt  safe  in  trusting  Ben  with  the  papers  without 
demanding  a  deposit  of  their  value.  Still  it  was 
better  and  safer  to  require  a  deposit,  and  he  there- 
fore took  the  dollar  from  Ben,  returning  twenty- 
five  cents  in  change. 

This  preliminary  matter  settled,  he  made  up  the 
parcel  of  papers. 

"  There  they  are,"  he  said.  "  If  you're  smart,  you 
can  sell  'em  all  before  night." 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  Ben. 

With  the  papers  under  his  arm,  Ben  made  his  way 
westward  to  the  Cortlandt  Street  ferry,  which  was 
a  favorite  place  of  resort  with  him. 

He  did  not  have  long  to  wait  for  his  first  customer. 
As  he  was  walking  lown  Cortlandt  Street,  he  met  a 
gentleman,  whose  attention  seemed  attracted  by  thf 
papers  he  carried 


240  £EN,    THE    LUGGAGE   BOY;    OM, 

"  What  papers  have  you  got  there,  my  iad?  "  ha 
inquired. 

"  '  Harper's  Weekly, '  «  Frank  Leslie,'  <  Ledger,' 
4  Weekly/  "  repeated  Ben,  glibly,  adding  the  names  of 
the  other  papers  in  his  parcel. 

"  Give  me  the  two  picture  papers,"  said  the  gentle- 
man. "  Twenty  cents,  I  suppose." 

"  Yes,"  said  Ben,"  and  as  much  more  as  you  want 
to  pay.  "  I  don't  set  no  limit  to  the  generosity 
of  my  customers." 

"You're  sharp,"  said  the  gentleman,  laughing. 
"  That's  worth  something.  Here's  twenty-five  cents. 
You  may  keep  the  change." 

"  I'll  do  it  cheerfully,"  said  Ben.  "  Thank  you,  sir. 
1  hope  you'll  buy  all  your  papers  of  me." 

"  I  won't  promise  always  to  pay  you  more  than  the 
regular  price,  but  you  may  leave  '  Harper's'  and 
4  Leslie '  at  my  office  every  week.  Here  is  my  card." 

Ben  took  the  card,  and  put  it  in  his  pocket.  He 
found  the  office  to  be  located  in  Trinity  Building, 
Broadway. 

"  I'll  call  every  week  reg'lar,"  he  said. 

"  That's  right,  my  lad.     Good-morning." 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  241 

"  Good  -mornm'." 

Ben  felt  that  he  had  started  well.  He  nad  cleared 
nine  cents  by  his  sale,  four  representing  his  regular 
commission,  while  the  other  five  cents  might  be  re- 
garded as  a  donation.  Nine  cents  was  something. 
But  for  his  idea  about  the  papers,  he  would  have 
made  nothing  so  far.  It  is  a  very  good  thing  to 
have  two  strings  to  your  bow,  so  Ben  thought, 
though  the  thought  did  not  take  that  precise  form  in 
his  mind.  He  kept  on  his  way  till  he  reached  the 
ferry.  There  was  no  train  in  on  the  other  side,  and 
would  not  be  for  some  time,  but  passengers  came 
over  the  ferry,  and  Ben  placed  himself  where  he 
could  be  seen.  It  was  some  time  before  he  sold 
another  paper  however,  although  Ben,  who  improved 
some  of  his  spare  time  by  looking  over  the  pic- 
tures, was  prepared  to  recommend  them. 

"  What  papers  have  you  got,  boy  ?  "  asked  a  tall, 
i&nk  man,  whose  thin  lips  and  pinched  expression 
ga  ve  him  an  outward  appearance  of  meanness,  which, 
by  the  way,  did  not  belie  his  real  character. 

Ben  recited  the  list. 

"  What's  the  price  of '  Harper's  Weekly '?  " 
16 


242  BEN,    THE   LUGGAGE    BOY;    Git, 

•'Ten  cents." 

"  Ten  cents  is  too  much  to  pay  for  any  paper.  I 
don't  see  how  they  have  the  face  to  ask  it." 

"  Nor  I,"  said  Ben  ;  "  but  they  don't  consult  me," 

"  I'll  give  you  eight  cents." 

"  No  you  won't,  not  if  I  know  it.  I'd  rather  keep 
the  paper  for  my  private  readin',"  answered  Ben. 

"  Then  you  are  at  liberty  to  do  so,"  said  the  gen- 
tleman,  snappishly.  "You'd  make  profit  enough, 
if  you  sold  at  eight  cents." 

"  All  the  profit  I'd  make  wouldn't  pay  for  a  fly's 
breakfast,"  said  Ben. 

The  gentleman  deigned  no  response,  but  walked 
across  the  street  in  a  dignified  manner.  Here  he 
was  accosted  by  a  boot-black,  who  proposed  to  shine 
his  boots. 

"  He'll  get  'em  done  at  the  wholesale  price,  see  if 
he  don't,"  thought  Ben.  He  kept  an  eye  on  the 
boot-black  and  his  patron  until  the  job  was  finished. 
Then  he  witnessed  what  appeared  to  be  an  angry 
dispute  between  the  two  parties.  It  terminated  by 
the  gentleman  lifting  his  cane  in  a  menacing  manner, 
Ben  afterwards  gained  from  the  boy  particulars  of 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  243 

the  transaction,  which  may  be  given  here  in  the  third 
person. 

"Shine  yer  boots?"  asked  the  boot-black,  as  the 
gentleman  reached  his  side  of  the  street,  just  after 
bis  unsuccessful  negotiations  with  Ben. 

"  What  do  you  charge  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Ten  cents." 

"  That's  too  much." 

"  It's  the  reg'lar  price." 

44 1  can  get  my  boots  blacked  for  five  cents  any- 
where. If  you'll  do  it  for  that,  you  can  go  to  work." 

The  boy  hesitated.  It  was  half  price,  but  he  had 
not  yet  obtained  a*  job,  and  he  yielded.  When  the 
task  was  finished,  his  generous  patron  drew  four 
cents  from  his  pocket. 

44 1  haven't  got  but  four  cents,"  he  observed.  "  I 
guess  that'll  do." 

The  boy  was  indignant,  as  was  natural.  To  work 
for  half  price,  and  then  lose  one-fifth  of  his  reduced 
pay,  was  aggravating.  What  made  it  worse  was, 
that  his  customer  was  carefully  dressed,  and  bore 
erery  appearance  of  being  a  man  of  substance, 

"I  want  another  cent,"  he  demanded. 


244  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE   BOY;   0JJ, 

"  You're  well  enough  paid,"  said  the  other,  draw* 
ing  on  a  kid  glove.  "  Four  cents  I  consider  very 
handsome  pay  for  ten  minutes'  work.  Many  men  do 
not  make  as  much." 

This  reasoning  did  not  strike  the  little  boot-black  as 
sound.  He  was  no  logician  ;  but  he  felt  that  he  had 
been  defrauded,  and  that  in  a  very  mean  manner. 

"  Give  me  my  money,"  he  screamed,  angrily. 

41  I'll  hand  you  over  to  the  authorities,"  said  th« 
gentleman,  — though  I  hardly  feel  justified  in  calling 
him  such,  —  lifting  his  cane  menacingly. 

What  could  the  boy  do?  Might  was  evidently  on 
the  side  of  the  man  who  had  cheated  him.  But  he 
was  quick-witted,  and  a  characteristic  mode  of  re- 
venge suggested  itself.  The  street  was  muddy 
(New  York  streets  are  occasionally  in  that  condi- 
tion). The  boot-black  stooped  down  and  clutched  a 
handful  of  mire  in  his  hand,  fortunately  having  no 
kid  gloves  to  soil,  and,  before  his  late  customer 
fathomed  his  intention,  plentifully  besprinkled  one 
of  the  boots  which  he  had  just  carefully  polished. 

46  That's  worth  a  cent,"  he  remarked,  with  satisfy 
tion,  escaping  from  the  wrath  of  the  injured  party. 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  245 

His  victim,  almost  speechless  with  rage,  seemed 
disposed  to  pursue  him ;  but  the  boy,  regardless  of 
the  mire,  had  run  across  the  street,  and  to  follow 
would  only  be  to  make  matters  worse. 

"  If  I  ever  catch  you,  I'll  break  every  bone  in  your 
body,  you  little  vagabond,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  almost 
choked  by  passion,  shaking  his  cane  energetically. 

Ben,  who  had  witnessed  the  whole,  burst  into  a 
hearty  laugh,  which  drew  upon  his  head  a  portion  of 
wrath.  After  a  pause,  the  victim  of  his  own  mean- 
ness turned  up  a  side  street.  The  reader  will  be 
glad  to  learn  that  he  had  to  employ  a  second  boot 
black  ;  so  that  he  was  not  so  much  better  off  for  his 
economical  management  after  all.  It  may  be  added 
that  he  was  actuated  in  all  his  dealings  by  the  same 
frugality,  if  we  may  dignify  it  by  that  name.  He 
was  a  large  dealer  in  ready-made  under-clothing,  for 
the  making  of  which  he  paid  starvation  prices';  but> 
unfortunately,  the  poor  sewing-girls,  whom  he  em- 
ployed for  a  pittance,  were  not  so  well  able  to  defend 
themselves  against  imposition  as  the  smart  little 
boot-black,  who  "  knew  his  rights,  and  knowing, 
dared  maintain." 


BEN)    THE  LUGGAGE   BOY;    Oft, 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE   HEAVY  VALISE. 

BEN  had  sold  half  his  papers  when  the  arrival  of 
the  train  from  Philadelphia  gave  him  an  opportunity 
to  return  to  his  legitimate  calling. 

"  Smash  your  baggage,  sir?"  asked  Ben  of  a  dark- 
complexioned  man  of  thirty-five,  who  carried  a  mod- 
erate-sized valise. 

"  Yes/'  said  the  other. 

"  Where  shall  I  carry  it?" 

"To "  Here  the  man  hesitated,  and  finally 

answered,  "  There  is  no  need  of  telling  you.  I 
will  take  it  from  you  when  we  have  got  along  far 
enough." 

Ben  was  about  to  walk  beside  the  owner  of  the 
valise ;  but  the  latter  objected  to  this. 

"  You  needn't  walk  beside  me,"  he  said.  "Keep 
about  a  block  ahead." 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  247 

"  But  how  will  I  know  where  to  go?"  asked  Ben, 
naturally. 

"You  know  where  Broome  Street  runs  into  the 
Bowery?" 

"  Of  course  I  do." 

"  Go  there  by  the  shortest  route.  Don't  trouble 
yourself  about  me.  I'll  follow  along  behind,  and 
take  the  valise  from  you  there.  If  you  get  there  be- 
fore I  do,  wait  for  me." 

"  I  suppose  I'm  too  ragged  to  walk  alongside  of 
him,"  thought  Ben. 

He  could  think  of  no  other  reason  for  the  direction 
given  by  the  other.  However,  Ben's  pride  was  not 
very  much  hurt.  Although  he  was  ragged  now,  he 
did  not  mean  to  be  long.  The  time  would  come,  he 
was  confident,  when  he  could  lay  aside  his  rags,  and 
appear  in  a  respectable  dress. 

The  valise  which  he  carried  proved  to  be  consider- 
ably heavier  than  would  have  been  imagined  from  ita 
size. 

"  I  wonder  what's  in  it,"  thought  Ben,  who  found 
it  tugging  away  at  his  arms.  "  If  it's  shirts  they'rt 
cast-iron.  Maybe  they're  just  comin'  in  fashion." 


248  BEN)    THE  LUGGAGE  BOY;    OR, 

However,  he  did  not  perplex  himself  much  about 
this  point.  Beyond  a  momentary  curiosity,  he  felt  no 
particular  interest  in  the  contents  of  the  valise.  The 
way  in  which  it  affected  him  principally  was,  to  make 
him  inwardly  resolve  to  ask  an  extra  price,  on 
account  of  the  extra  weight. 

After  walking  a  while  he  looked  back  for  the  owner 
of  the  valise.  But  he  was  not  in  sight. 

"  I  might  carry  off  his  baggage,"  thought  Ben, 
"without  his  knowin'  it." 

He  kept  on,  however,  never  doubting  that  the 
owner  would  sooner  or  later  overtake  him.  If  he 
did  not  care  enough  for  the  valise  to  do  this,  Ben 
would  not  be  responsible. 

He  had  just  shifted  the  heavy  burden  from  one 
hand  to  the  other,  when  he  felt  himself  tapped  on 
the  shoulder.  Looking  round,  he  saw  that  the  one 
who  had  done  this  was  a  quiet-looking  man,  of  mid- 
dle size,  but  with  a  keen,  sharp  eye. 

"What's  wanted?"  asked  Ben. 

'*  Where  did  you  get  that  valise,  my  lad  ? "  asked 
the  new-comer. 

"  I  don't  know  as  that's  any  of  your  business," 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  249 

answered  Ben,  who  didn't  perceive  the  other's  right 
to  ask  the  question. 

44  Is  it  yours?" 

"  Maybe  it  is." 

"  Let  me  lift  it  a  moment." 

"Hands  off!"  said  Ben,  suspiciously.  "Don't 
try  none  of  your  tricks  on  me." 

The  other  did  not  appear  to  notice  this. 

"  I  take  it  for  granted  that  the  valise  is  not  yours," 
he  said.  "  Now  tell  me  where  you  got  it  from." 

There  was  something  of  authority  in  his  manner, 
which  led  Ben  to  think  that  he  had  a  warrant  foi 
asking  the  question,  though  he  could  not  guess  his 
object  in  doing  so. 

"  I'm  a  baggage-smasher,"  answered  Ben.  "  I  got 
this  from  a  man  that  came  by  the  Philadelphia 
train." 

"Where  is  he?" 

44 1  guess  he's  behind  somewheres." 

44  Where  are  you  carrying  the  valise  ?  " 

44  Seems  to  me  you  want  to  know  a  good  deal," 
gaid  Ben,  undecided  as  to  the  right  of  the  other  to 
ask  so  many  questions. 


£50  JBJPJT,    THE  LUGO  AGE  BOY;    OR> 

"  I'll  let  you  into  a  secret,  my  lad ;  but  yon  must 
keep  the  secret.  That  valise  is  pretty  heavy,  isn't 
it?" 

"  I'll  bet  it  is." 

"  To  the  best  of  my  information,  the  man  who  em- 
ployed you  is  a  noted  burglar,  and  this  valise  con- 
tains his  tools.  I  am  a  detective,  and  am  on  his 
track.  I  received  a  telegram  an  hour  ago  from  Phil- 
adelphia, informing  me  that  he  was  on  his  way.  I 
got  down  to  the  wharf  a  little  too  late.  Now  tell  me 
where  you  are  to  carry  this ; "  and  the  detective 
pointed  to  the  valise. 

"I  am  to  meet  the  gentleman  at  the  corner  of 
Broome  Street  and  the  Bowery,"  said  Ben. 

"  Very  well.     Go  ahead  and  meet  him." 

"  Shall  you  be  there?  "  asked  Ben. 

"  Never  mind.  Go  on  just  as  if  I  had  not  met 
you,  and  deliver  up  the  valise." 

"  If  you're  goin*  to  nab  him,  just  wait  till  I've  got 
mJ  Pav-  I  don't  want  to  smash  such  heavy  baggage 
for  nothin'." 

"  I  agree  to  that.  Moreover,  if  I  succeed  in  get- 
ting hold  of  the  fellow  through  your  information,  I 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  251 

don't  mind  paying  you  five  dollars  out  of  my  own 
pocket." 

"Very  good,"  said  Ben.  "I  shan't  mind  takin* 
it,  not  by  no  means." 

"  Go  on,  and  don't  be  in  too  much  of  a  hurry.  I 
want  time  to  lay  my  trap." 

Ben  walked  along  leisurely,  in  accordance  with  hia 
instructions.  At  length  he  reached  the  rendezvous. 
He  found  the  owner  of  the  valise  already  in  waiting. 

"  Well,  boy,"  he  said,  impatiently,  "  you  took  your 
time." 

"  I  generally  do,"  said  Ben.  "  It  aint  dishonest  to 
take  my  own  time,  is  it  ?  " 

"  I've  been  waiting  here  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour. 
I  didn't  know  but  you'd  gone  to  sleep  somewhere  on 
the  way. ' 

"I  don't  sleep  much  in  the  daytime.  It  don't 
agree  with  my  constitution.  Well,  mister,  I  hope 
you'll  give  me  something  handsome.  Your  baggage 
here  is  thunderin'  heavy." 

"  There's  twenty-five  cents,"  said  the  other. 

"  Twenty-five  cents !  "  exclaimed  Ben,  indignantly, 


252  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE  EOT;   OJK, 

"  Twenty-five  cents  for  walkin'  two  miles  with  such  * 
heavy  load.  It's  worth  fifty." 

"Well,  you  won't  get  fifty,"  said  the  other, 
roughly. 

"  Jus\;  get  somebody  else  to  carry  your  baggage 
next  time,"  said  Ben,  angrily. 

He  looked  round,  and  saw  the  quiet-looking  man, 
before,  referred  to,  approaching.  He  felt  some  satis- 
faction in  knowing  that  his  recent  employer  would 
meet  with  a  check  which  he  was  far  from  anticipating. 

Without  answering  Ben,  the  latter  took  the  valise, 
and  was  about  moving  away,  when  the  quiet-looking 
man  suddenly  quickened  his  pace,  and  laid  his  hand 
on  his  arm. 

The  burglar,  for  he  was  really  one,  started,  and 
turned  pale. 

"  What  do  you  want?" 

"You  know  what  I  want,"  said  the  detective, 
quietly.  "  I  want  you." 

"What  do  you  want  me  for?"  demanded  the 
other ;  but  it  was  easy  to  see  that  he  was  nervous 
and  alarmed. 

"  You  know  that  also,"  said  the  detective ;  "  but 


AMONG   THE    WHARVES.  253 

I  dou't  mind  telling  you.  You  came  from  Philadel- 
phia this  morning,  and  your  name  is  '  Sly  Bill.' 
You  are  a  noted  burglar,  and  I  shall  take  you  into 
immediate  custody." 

"  You're  mistaken,"  said  Bill.  "  You've  got  hold 
of  the  wrong  man." 

"  That  will  soon  be  seen.  Have  the  kindness  to 
accompany  me  to  the  station-house,  and  I'll  take  a 
look  into  that  valise  of  yours." 

Bill  was  physically  a  stronger  man  than  the  detec- 
tive, but  he  succumbed  at  once  to  the  tone  of  quiet 
authority  with  which  he  spoke,  and  prepared  to  fol- 
low, though  by  no  means  with  alacrity. 

"  Here,  my  lad,"  said  the  detective,  beckoning 
Ben,  who  came  up.  "  Come  and  see  me  at  thia 
place,  to-morrow,"  he  continued,  producing  a  card, 
uand  I  won't  forget  the  promise  I  made  you." 

"  All  right,"  said  Ben. 

"  I'm  in  luck  ag'in,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  At  thi* 
rate  it  won't  take  me  long  to  make  fifty  dollars. 
Smashin'  baggage  for  burglars  pays  pretty  well." 

He  bethought  himself  of  his  papers,  of  which  half 
remained  unsold.  He  sold  some  on  the  way  back  t» 


254  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE    BOY;   OJB, 

the  wharf,  where,  after  a  while,  he  got  another  job, 
for  which,  being  at  some  distance,  he  was  paid  fifty 
cents. 

At  five  in  the  afternoon  he  reported  himself  at  the 
news-stand. 

"  I've  sold  all  the  papers  you  gave  me,"  he  said, 
'*  and  here's  the  money.  I  guess  I  can  sell  more  to- 
morrow." 

The  news-dealer  paid  him  the  commission  agreed 
upon,  amounting  to  eighteen  cents,  Ben,  of  course, 
retaining  besides  the  five  cents  which  had  been  paid 
him  extra  in  the  morning.  This  made  his  earnings 
for  the  day  ninety-eight  cents,  beside*  the 
dollars  promised  by  the  detective. 


AMONG    THE    WBARVE8. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE    SURPRISE. 

BEN  had  certainly  met  with  good  luck  so  far. 
Even  his  temporary  detention  at  the  station-house 
he  regarded  as  a  piece  of  good  luck,  since  he  was 
paid  handsomely  for  the  confinement,  while  his  bed 
there  was  considerably  more  comfortable  than  he 
often  enjoyed.  His  adventure  with  the  burglar 
also  brought  him  in  as  much  as  under  ordinary 
circumstances  he  would  have  earned  in  a  week.  In 
two  days  he  was  able  to  lay  aside  fifteen  dollars 
and  a  half  towards  his  fund. 

But  of  course  such  lucky  adventures  could  not 
be  expected  every  day.  The  bulk  of  his  money 
must  be  earned  slowly,  as  the  reward  of  persistent 
labor  and  industry.  But  Ben  was  willing  to  work 
now  that  he  had  an  object  before  him.  He  kept  up 
his  double  business  of  baggage-smasher  and  vender 
of  weekly  papers.  After  a  while  the  latter  began 


BEN,    THS    LUGGAGE   3OY /   OS, 

to  pay  him  enough  to  prove  quite  a  help,  besides 
filling  up  his  idle  moments.  Another  good  result 
of  his  new  business  was,  that,  while  waiting  for 
customers,  he  got  into  the  habit  of  reading  the 
papers  he  had  for  sale.  Now  Ben  had  done  very 
little  reading  since  he  came  to  New  York,  and,  if 
called  upon  to  read  aloud,  would  have  shown  the 
effects  of  want  of  practice,  in  his  frequent  blunders. 
But  the  daily  lessons  in  reading  which  he  now  took 
began  to  remedy  this  deficiency,  and  give  him 
increased  fluency  and  facility.  It  also  had  the 
effect  of  making  him  wish  that  his  education  had  not 
been  interrupted,  so  that  his  Cousin  Charles  might 
not  be  so  far  ahead  of  him. 

Ben  also  gave  up  smoking,  —  not  so  much  because 
he  considered  it  injurious,  but  because  cigars  cost 
money,  and  he  was  economizing  in  every  possible 
way.  He  continued  to  sleep  in  the  room  under  the 
wharf,  which  thus  far  the  occupants  had  managed 
to  keep  from  the  knowledge  of  the  police.  Grad- 
ually the  number  had  increased,  until  from  twenty 
to  thirty  boys  made  it  a  rendezvous  nightly.  By 
some  means  a  stove  had  been  procured,  and  whal 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES  251 

was  more  difficult,  got  safely  down  without  obser* 
ration,  so  that,  as  the  nights  grew  cooler,  the  boys 
managed  to  make  themselves  comfortable.  Here 
they  talked  and  told  stories,  and  had  a  good  time 
before  going  to  sleep.  One  evening  it  was  proposed 
by  one  of  the  boys  that  each  should  tell  his  own 
story;  for  though  they  met  together  daily  they 
knew  little  of  each  other  beyond  this,  that  they 
were  All  engaged  in  some  street  avocation.  Some 
of  the  stories  told  were  real,  some  burlesque. 

First  Jim  Bagley  told  his  story. 

"I  aint  got  much  to  tell,  boys,"  he  said.  "My 
father  kept  a  cigar  store  on  Eighth  Avenue,  and 
my  mother  and  sister  and  I  lived  behind  the  shop. 
We  got  along  pretty  well,  till  father  got  run  over 
by  a  street-car,  and  pretty  soon  after  he  died.  We 
kept  the  store  along  a  little  while,  but  we  couldn't 
make  it  go  and  pay  the  rent ;  so  we  sold  out  to  a 
man  who  paid  half  down,  and  promised  to  pay  the 
rest  in  a  year.  But  before  the  year  was  up  he  shut 
np  the  shop,  and  went  off,  and  we  never  got  the 
rest  of  the  money.  The  money  we  did  get  did  not 

last  long.     Mother  got  some  sewin'  to  do,  but   »h« 
17 


258  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE   BOY;   OM> 

soukin't  earn  much.  I  took  to  sellin'  papers :  but 
after  a  while  1  went  into  the  match  business,  which 
pays  pretty  good.  I  pay  mother  five  dollars  a 
week,  and  sometimes  more ;  so  she  gets  along 
well." 

"I  don't  see  how  you  make  so  much  money. 
Jim,"  said  Phil  Cranmer.  "I've  tried  it,  and  I 
didn't  get  nothin'  much  out  of  it." 

"  Jim  knows  how,"  said  one  of  the  boys.  "  He'i 
got  enterprise." 

"I  go  off  into  the  country  a  good  deal,"  said 
Jim.  "There's  plenty  of  match  boys  in  the  city. 
Sometimes  I  hire  another  boy  to  come  along  and 
help  me.  If  he's  smart  I  make  money  that  way 
loo.  Last  time  I  went  out  I  didn't  make  so 
much." 

"  How  was  that,  Jim?" 

u  I  went  up  to  Albany  on  the  boat.  I  was  doin' 
pretty  well  up  there,  when  all  to  once  they  took  me 
up  for  sellin'  without  a  license ;  so  I  had  to  pay  tjen 
dollars  afore  they'd  let  me  off." 

"  Did  you  have  the  money  to  pay,  Jim  ?  " 

"Yes,  but  it  cleaned  me  out,  so  I  didn't  have 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  25$ 

but  two  dollars  left.  But  I  travelled  off  into  tba 
country  towns,  and  got  it  back  in  a  week  or  two, 
Ifm  glad  they  didn't  get  hold  of  Bill." 

"Who  was  Bill?" 

"The  feller  that  sold  for  me.  I  couldn't  have 
paid  his  fine  too.  That's  about  all  I  have  to  tell  "  * 

"Captain  Jinks!"  called  out  one  of  the  boys; 
"  your  turn  next." 

Attention  was  directed  to  a  tall,  overgrown  boy 
of  sixteen,  or  possibly  seventeen,  to  whom  ton 
some  unknown  reason  the  name  of  the  famous 
Captain  Jinks  had  been  given. 

"  That  aint  my  name,"  he  said. 

"  Oh,  bother  your  name !     Go  ahead." 

*'  I  aint  got  nothing  to  say." 

44  Go  ahead  and  say  it." 

The  captain  was  rather  taciturn,  but  was  finally 
Induced  to  tell  his  story. 

•  The  main  incidents  of  Jim  Bagley's  story  are  true,  Laving  been 
•ommonicated  to  the  writer  by  Jim  himself,  a  wide-awake  boy 
f,  fifteen,  who  appeared  to  possess  decUed  business  ability  aaf 
The  name  only  is  fictitious. 


260  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE   BOY;   0*, 

"My  father  and  mother  are  dead,"  he  said.  "1 
used  to  live  with  m}T  sister  and  her  husband.  He 
would  get  drunk  off  the  money  I  brought  home,  and 
if  I  didn't  bring  home  as  much  as  he  expected,  he'd 
fling  a  chair  at  my  head." 

"He  was  a  bully  brother-in-law,"  said  Jerry. 
"  Did  it  hurt  the  chair  much?" 

"  If  you  want  to  know  bad,  I'll  try  it  on  you," 
growled  the  narrator. 

"Good  for  Captain  Jinks!"  exclaimed  two  or 
three  of  the  boys. 

"When  did  you  join  the  Hoss  Marines?"  asked 
Jerry,  with  apparent  interest. 

"  Shut  ap  your  mouth ! "  said  the  captain,  who 
did  not  fancy  the  joke. 

44  Go  ahead,  Jinks." 

"  I  would  not  stand  that ;  so  I  went  off,  and  lived 
at  the  Lodge  till  I  got  in  here.  That's  all." 

Captain  Jinks  relapsed  into  silence,  and  Tim 
McQuade  was  called  upon.  He  had  a  pair  of 
sparkling  black  eyes,  that  looked  as  if  he  were  not 
averse  to  fun. 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  261 

«•  Maybe  you  don't  know,"  he  said,  "  that  I'm 
fast  cousin  to  a  Markis." 

"  The  Markis  of  Cork,"  suggested  oae  of  th« 
boys. 

"And  sometimes  I  expect  to  come  in  for  a  lot 
of  money,  if  I  don't  miss  of  it." 

"When  you  do,  just  treat  a  feller,  will  you?" 
•aid  Jerry. 

"  Course  I  will.  I  was  born  in  a  big  castle  made 
of  stone,  and  used  to  go  round  dressed  in  welvet, 
and  had  no  end  of  nice  things,  till  one  day  a  feller 
that  had  a  spite  ag'in  the  Markis  carried  me  off,  and 
brought  me  to  America,  where  I  had  to  go  to  work 
and  earn  my  own  livin'." 

"Why  don't  you  write  the  Markis,  and  get 
him  to  send  for  you?"  asked  Jerry. 

"'Cause  he  can't  read,  you  spalpeen  I  What  'ud 
be  the  use  of  writin'  to  him? " 

"  Maybe  it's  the  fault  of  your  writin',  Tim." 

"  Maybe  it  is,"  said  Tim.  "  When  the  MarkU 
dies  I'm  going  back,  an'  I'll  invite  you  all  to  eonM 
an'  pass  a  week  at  Castle  McQuade  " 


262  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE  EOT;   Oft, 

"  Bully  for  you,  Tim !  Now,  Dutchey,  tell  us  your 
story." 

Dutchey  was  a  boy  of  ten,  with  a  full  face  and 
rotund  figure,  whose  English,  as  he  had  been  but  two 
years  in  the  country,  was  highly  flavored  with  Ma 
native  dialect. 

"  I  cannot  English  sprechen,"  he  said. 

**  Never  mind,  Dutchey.    Do  as  well  as  you  can." 

**  It  is  mine  story  you  want  ?  He  is  not  very  long, 
but  I  will  tell  him  so  goot  as  I  can.  Mine  vater  was 
A  shoemaker,  what  makes  boots.  He  come  from 
Sharmany,  on  der  Rhein,  mit  my  moder,  and  five 
childer.  He  take  a  little  shop,  and  make  some 
money,  till  one  day  a  house  fall  on  his  head  mit  a 
brick,  an  he  die.  Then  I  go  out  into  der  street,  and 
blacl*  boots  so  much  as  I  get  him  to  do,  and  the 
money  what  I  get  I  carry  home  to  mine  moder.  I 
cannot  much  English  sprechen,  or  I  could  tell  mine 
Btory  more  goot." 

"  Bully  for  you,  Dutchey !    You're  a  trump." 

"  What  is  one  trump?"  asked  the  boy,  with  a 
expression. 

"  It  is  a  good  feller." 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  263 

This  explanation  seemed  to  reconcile  Dutchey  to 
toeing  called  a  trump,  and  he  lay  back  on  the  bed 
with  an  expression  of  satisfaction. 

"  Now,  Ben,  tell  us  your  story." 

It  was  Ben,  the  luggage  boy,  who  was  addressed. 
The  question  embarrassed  him,  for  he  preferred  to 
keep  his  story  secret.  He  hoped  ere  long  to  leaye 
his  present  haunts  and  associates,  and  he  did  not 
care  to  give  the  latter  a  clue  by  which  they  might 
trace  him  in  his  new  character  and  position.  Yet 
he  had  no  good  reason  to  assign  for  silence.  He  was 
considering  what  sort  of  a  story  he  could  manufac- 
ture, that  would  pass  muster,  when  he  was  relieved 
from  further  consideration  by  an  unexpected  occur- 
rence. 

It  appears  that  a  boy  had  applied  for  admission  to 
the  rendezvous ;  but,  on  account  of  his  unpopular 
character,  had  been  refused.  This  naturally  incensed 
him,  and  he  determined  to  betray  the  boys  to  the 
policeman  on  the  beat.  The  sight  that  greeted  Ben, 
as  he  looked  towards  the  entrance,  was  the  face  of 
the  policeman,  peering  into  the  apartment.  He 


264  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE   BOY;   O£, 

Uttered    a    half   exclamation,   which    attracted    the 
general  attention.     Instantly  all  was  excitement. 

"  The  copp !  the  copp ! "  passed  from  mouth  to 
mouth. 

The  officer  saw  that  the  odds  were  against  him, 
and  he  must  summon  help.  He  went  up  the  ladder, 
therefore,  and  went  in  search  of  assistance.  The 
boys  scrambled  up  after  him.  Some  were  caught, 
and  ultimately  sentenced  to  the  Island,  on  a  charge 
of  stealing  the  articles  which  were  found;  but 
others  escaped.  Among  these  was  Ben,  who  waa 
lucky  enough  to  glide  off  in  the  darkness.  He  took 
the  little  German  boy  under  his  protection,  and  man- 
aged to  get  him  safely  away  also.  In  this  case  the 
ends  of  justice  were  not  interfered  with,  as  neither  of 
the  two  had  been  guilty  of  dishonesty,  or  anything 
else  rendering  them  amenable  to  the  law. 

"  Well,  Dutchey,  we're  safe,"  said  Ben,  wken  they 
had  got  some  blocks  away  from  the  wharf.  "  How 
do  you  feel  ?  " 

"  I  lose  mine  breath,"  said  the  little  boy, 
with  the  effort  he  had  made. 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  263 

«  That's  better  than  losin'  your  liberty,"  said  Ben. 
**  You'll  get  your  breath  back  again.  Now  we  must 
look  about  and  see  where  we  can  sleep.  I  wonder  if 
Jim  Bagley's  took." 

Just  then  a  boy  came  running  up. 

"  Why,  it's  Ben  and  Dutchey,"  he  said. 

"  Jerry,  is  it  you  ?    I'm  glad  you're  safe." 

"  The  copp  got  a  grip  of  me,  but  I  left  my  jacket 
in  his  hands.  He  can  carry  that  to  the  station- 
house  if  he  wants  to." 

Jerry's  appearance  corresponded  to  his  statement, 
his  jacket  being  gone,  leaving  a  dilapidated  vest  and 
ragged  shirt  alone  to  protect  the  upper  part  of  his 
body.  He  shivered  with  the  cold,  for  it  was  now 
November. 

"Here,  Jerry,"  said  Ben,  " just  take  my  vest  an* 
put  over  yours.  I'll  button  up  my  coat." 

"  If  I  was  as  fat  as  Dutchey,  I  wouldn't  mind  the 
cold,"  said  Jerry. 

The  three  boys  finally  found  an  old  wagon,  in 
which  all  three  huddled  up  together,  by  thie  means 
keeping  warmer  than  they  otherwise  could.  Being 


266  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE  BOY;    OR> 

turned  out  of  their  beds  into  the  street  might  have 
been  considered  a  hardship  by  boys  differently  reared, 
but  it  was  not  enough  to  disturb  the  philosophy  <rf 
our  young  vagrants. 


AMONG   TRE    WHARVES.  2S7 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

BEN  TRANSFORMED. 


away  steadily  at  his  double  occupation, 
»*vmg  ssoney  as  well  as  he  could  ;  but  he  met  with 
no  more  profitable  adventures.  His  earnings  were 
gradual.  Some  weeks  he  laid  by  as  much  as  a  dollar 
and  a  half,  or  even  two  dollars,  but  other  weeks  he 
barely  reached  a  dollar.  So  the  end  of  March  came 
before  he  was  able  to  carry  out  the  object  which  he 
had  in  view. 

One  morning  about  this  time  Ben  carefully  counted 
up  his  deposits,  and  found  they  amounted  to  fifty 
dollars  and  thirty-seven  cents.  It  was  a  joyful 
moment,  which  he  had  long  looked  forward  to.  He 
had  been  tempted  to  rest  satisfied  with  fortj  when 
he  had  reached  that  sum,  but  he  resisted  the  temp- 
tation. 

u  I  aint  goin'  to  do  things  by  halves,"  he  said  to 


268  BEN)    THE  LUGGAGE   BOY;   OA, 

himself.  "  I  can't  do  it  for  less'n  fifty  dollars.  ! 
must  wait  awhile." 

But  the  moment  had  arrived  when  he  could  accom* 
plish  his  purpose.  As  Ben  looked  down  at  his 
ragged  attire,  which  was  in  a  considerably  worse  con- 
dition then  when  he  was  first  presented  to  the  reader, 
he  felt  that  it  was  high  time  he  got  a  new  suit. 

The  first  thing  to  be  done  was  to  get  his  money. 
He  made  his  way  to  the  savings-bank,  and  presented 
himself  at  the  counter. 

"  I  want  all  of  my  money,"  he  said. 

*4 1  hope  you're  not  going  to  spend  it  all,"  said  the 
bank  officer,  who  by  this  time  had  come  to  feel 
acquainted  with  Ben,  from  bis  frequent  calls  to  make 
deposits. 

"  I'm  goin'  to  buy  some  new  clothes,"  said  Ben. 
*'  Don't  I  look  as  if  I  needed  some  ?  " 

"  Yes,  you  are  rather  out  at  elbows,  I  must  admit. 
But  new  clothes  won't  cost  all  the  money  you  have  in 
the  bank." 

"  I'm  goin'  home  to  my  friends,"  said  Ben,  "  aftei 
Fve  got  dressed  decently/* 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  269 

•*  I  hat's  a  good  resolution,  my  boj  ;  I  hope  you'll 
•tick  to  it." 

"  It's  what  Fve  been  workin*  for,  for  a  long  time," 
said  Ben. 

He  filled  out  the  order  for  the  money,  and  it  was 
delivered  to  him. 

The  next  thing  was  to  buy  a  new  suit  of  clothes. 
Usually  Ben  had  procured  his  outfit  in  Chatham 
Street,  but  he  soared  higher  now.  He  made  his  way 
to  a  large  ready-made  clothing  warehouse  on  Broad 
way,  and  entered.  The  main  apartment  was  spacious, 
the  counters  were  heaped  with  articles  of  dress,  and 
numerous  clerks  were  ready  to  wait  upon  customers. 

"Well,  what's  wanted?"  asked  one,  glancing 
superciliously  at  the  ragged  boy  entering. 

44  Have  you  got  any  clothes  that  will  fit  me  ? " 
asked  Ben. 

44 1  guess  you've  lost  your  way,  Johnny,  haven't 
pou?" 

44  What  makes  you  think  so?  "  asked  Ben. 

44  This  isn't  Chatham  Street." 

44  Thank  you  for  the  information,"  said  Ben.  4<  I 
thought  it  was  when  I  saw  you  here." 


270  ABJyr,    THE  LUGGAGE  BOY;   OX, 

There  was  a  laugh,  at  the  clerk's  expense,  among 
those  who  heard  the  retort. 

"What  are  you  here  for,  any  way?"  demanded 
the  clerk,  with  an  air  of  insulted  majesty. 

"  To  buy  some  clothes,"  said  Ben ;  "  but  you 
needn't  show  'em  to  me.  I'll  go  to  somebody  else." 

"  Have  you  got  any  money  ?  " 

44  You'll  know  soon  enough." 

He  went  to  another  part  of  the  store,  and  applied 
to  a  salesman  whose  appearance  he  liked  better. 
After  some  hesitation,  Ben  made  choice  of  a  suit  of 
substantial  warm  cloth,  a  dark  mixed  sack-coat,  vest 
of  the  same  material,  and  a  pair  of  pants  of  neat 
pattern. 

"  I  won't  trouble  you  to  send  'em,"  said  Ben,  "  as 
my  house  is  closed  for  the  season." 

The  bundle  was  made  up,  and  handed  to  him. 
The  price  of  the  entire  suit  was  twenty  dollars, 
Miich  was  a  good  price  for  those  days.  Ben  took 
the  bundle  under  his  arm  and  went  out. 

His  purchases  were  not  yet  all  made.  He  went 
next  to  a  furnishing  store,  and  bought  three  shirts, 
three  pairs  of  stockings,  some  collars,  and  a  necktie^ 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  271 

finishing  up  with  a  pair  of  gloves.  These  cost  him 
eight  dollars.  A  neat  felt  hat  and  a  pair  of  shoes, 
which  he  procured  elsewhere,  completed  his  outfit. 
On  counting  up,  Ben  found  that  he  had  expended 
thirty-six  dollars,  leaving  in  his  hands  a  balance  of 
fourteen  dollars  and  thirty-seven  cents. 

Before  putting  on  his  new  purchases,  Ben  felt  that 
he  must  go  through  a  process  of  purification.  H« 
went,  therefore,  to  a  barber's  basement  shop,  with 
which  baths  were  connected,  and,  going  down  the 
steps,  said  to  the  barber's  assistant,  who  happened 
to  be  alone  at  the  time,  "  I  want  a  warm  bath." 

"  Pay  in  advance,"  said  the  young  man,  surveying 
the  ragged  figure  before  him  with  some  hesitation. 

"  All  right,"  said  Ben.     "  How  much  is  it?" 

"  Twenty-five  cents." 

"  Here  it  is,"  said  Ben,  producing  the  exact 
amount  from  his  vest-pocket. 

Such  ragged  customers  were  not  usual ;  but  there 
seemed  to  be  no  good  excuse  for  refusing  Ben,  as  he 
had  the  money  to  pay.  In  five  minutes  the  bath  was 
declared  to  be  ready,  and  Ben,  entering  the  small 
room  assigned  to  him,  joyfully  divested  himself  of 


272  HEN,    THE  LUGGAGE  BOY;    Olt, 

the  ragged  garments  which  he  was  never  again  to  put 
on,  and  got  into  the  tub.  It  probably  will  not  excite 
lurprise  when  I  say  that  Ben  stood  in  need  of  a  bath 
His  street  life  had  not  been  particularly  favorable  to 
cleanliness,  nor  had  he  been  provided  with  such 
facilities  for  attending  to  his  toilet  as  are  usual  in 
well-regulated  families.  However,  he  was  quite 
aware  of  his  deficiencies  in  this  way,  and  spared 
neither  pains  nor  soap  to  remedy  them.  It  was  a 
work  of  time ;  but  finally  he  felt  satisfied  with  the 
result  of  his  efforts,  and,  after  drying  himself,  pro- 
ceeded to  put  on  his  new  clothes.  They  proved  to  fit 
excellently.  Indeed,  they  wrought  such  a  change  in 
our  hero's  appearance  that  he  could  hardly  believe  in 
his  own  identity  when  he  stood  before  the  glass,  and 
saw  reflected  the  form  of  a  well-dressed  boy,  in  place 
of  the  ragged  figure  which  he  saw  on  entering.  The 
only  thing  which  marred  his  good  appearance  was 
his  hair,  which  had  grown  to  undue  length.  He 
determined  to  have  it  cut  before  he  left  the  barber's 
shop. 

He  tied  up  the  clothes  he  had  taken  off  in  the 
paper  which  had  contained  his  new  suit,  and,  opening 


A.JUONQ   TRB    WHARVES  273 

the  door,  went  out  into  the  main  room  with  the 
bundle  under  his  arm. 

Meanwhile  the  proprietor  of  the  shop  had  re- 
turned. 

"  Who  is  taking  a  bath?"  he  asked  of  his  assist- 
ant. 

"  A  ragged  street  boy,"  said  the  latter. 

"What did  you  let  him  in  for?" 

"  He  paid  in  advance." 

"  I  don't  oare  about  such  customers  any  way,"  tsid 
the  barber.  "  Remember  next  time." 

"  All  right." 

At  this  moment  Ben  made  his  appearance;  but 
that  appearance  was  so  much  altered  that  the  young 
man  looked  at  him  in  astonishment.  He  looked 
thoroughly  well  dressed,  and  might  have  passed 
readily  for  the  scion  of  a  wealthy  family. 

"  Were  two  bath-rooms  occupied?"  asked  the  pro- 
prietor. 

"  No." 

"  I  thought  you  said — n 

"  I  was  never  so  surprised  in  my  life,"  said  iht 
18 


BEN,    THE   LUGGAGE  SOT;   OR, 

assistant.  "Did  you  get  changed  in  ;he  bath?"  ha 
asked  of  Ben. 

"  Yes,"  said  Ben. 

"What  made  you  wear  such  a  ragged  suit?" 

"I  was  in  disguise,"  said  Ben;  "but  I've  got 
tired  of  it,  and  thrown  it  off.  I  think  I'll  have  my 
hair  cut." 

"Take  a  seat,"  said  the  proprietor.  "I'll  cut 
your  hair  myself.  How  will  you  have  it  cut?" 

"I  want  to  be  in  the  f^hion,"  said  Ben.  *«  Make 
it  look  as  well  as  you  can." 

He  took  his  seat,  and  the  task  commenced.  The 
barber  was  skilful  in  his  art,  and  he  saw  at  once 
what  style  would  become  Ben  best.  He  exerted  him- 
self to  the  utmost,  and  when  at  the  end  of  half  an 
hour  he  withdrew  the  cloth  from  around  our  hero*  9 
neck,  he  had  effected  a  change  almost  marvellous  in 
Ben's  appearance. 

I  have  already  said  that  Ben  was  naturally  good- 
looking.  But  even  good  looks  need  fair  play,  and 
rags  and  neglect  are  apt  to  obscure  the  gifts  of 
nature.  So  Ben  had  never  looked  his  best  till  now. 
But  when  his  hair  was  cut  and  arranged,  and  he 


AMONG   THE    WHARVES.  275 

looked  in  the  mirror  to  observe  the  effect,  he  was 
himself   surprised.     It  was  some  like  the  change 
that  transformed  Cinderella  into  a  princess. 
"  I  shan't  be  ashamed  to  tell  my  cousin  who  I  un 
/'  he  said. 


270  BEN*    THE  LUGGAGE  BOY;    O4, 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

BEN   MAKES    HIMSELF   KNOWN. 

BEN  went  out  into  the  street  with  two  bundles 
under  his  arm.  One  contained  the  ragged  clothes 
which  he  had  just  taken  off.  The  other,  which  was 
much  smaller,  contained  his  extra  shirts  and  stock- 
ings. The  first  he  did  not  care  to  keep.  He  there- 
fore lost  no  time  in  throwing  it  into  an  alley- way. 

"  It'll  be  a  lucky  chap  that  finds  it,"  thought  Ben. 

He  next  put  on  his  gloves,  and  considered  what  he 
should  do  next.  It  was  half-past  twelve  o'clock 
already,  for  he  had  not  been  able  to  get  his  money 
from  the  bank  till  ten,  and  the  purchases  and  bath, 
as  well  as  the  hair-cutting,  had  taken  up  considerable 
time.  He  began  to  feel  hungry,  and  appetite  sug- 
gested that  he  should  first  of  all  go  to  a  restaurant 
and  get  some  dinner. 

On  the  way  thither  he  met  two  of  his  street  ac- 
quaintances, who  passed  him  without  the  slightest 


AMONG   THE    WHARVES  277 

mark  of  recognition.  This  pleased  Ben,  for  it 
assured  him  that  the  change  which  he  had  effected 
in  his  appearance  was  a  considerable  one 

While  eating  dinner,  he  deliberated  what  he  should 
do.  It  was  Saturday,  and  it  would  be  almost  too 
late  to  start  for  his  Pennsylvania  home.  He  decided 
to  go  to  his  sister's  house  on  Madison  Avenue,  and 
make  himself  known  there  first  of  all.  He  was  influ- 
enced to  this  partly  by  the  desire  he  had  to  meet  his 
cousin,  who,  as  he  knew,  was  making  his  home,  while 
attending  school,  at  the  house  of  Mr.  Abercrombie 
He  had  more  than  once  been  up  to  that  part  of  the 
city  in  the  hope  of  catching  a  glimpse  of  the  cousin 
for  whom  he  retained  his  old,  boyish  love ;  but  he  had 
always  shrunk,  even  when  seeing  him,  from  attract* 
ing  his  observation.  He  did  not  wish  to  be  remom 
bered  in  his  rags,  and  so  denied  himself  the  pleasure 
for  which  he  yearned.  But  now  he  was  satisfied  with 
his  appearance.  He  felt  that  he  was  as  well  dressed 
as  Charles  himself,  and  would  do  no  discredit  to  him 
if  they  were  seen  m  the  street  together. 

He  got  on  board  an  omnibus,  and  took  bis  seat 
A  lady  soon  after  entered,  and  sat  down  beside  him 


278  BEN,    THE  LUQGAGE   BOY;    OR, 

She  drew  out  some  money  from  her  purse,  and,  pas* 
Ing  it  to  Ben,  said,  "  Will  you  have  the  kindness  to 
pass  up  my  fare,  sir  ?  " 

*'  Certainly,"  said  Ben,  politely. 

It  was  a  small  incident,  but  he  felt,  from  the  young 
lady's  manner  of  addressing  him,  that  she  looked  upon 
him  as  her  equal  socially,  and  this  afforded  him  not 
a  little  pleasure.  He  wondered  how  he  could  have 
been  content  to  drift  about  the  streets  so  long,  clothed 
in  rags.  New  hopes  and  a  new  ambition  had  been 
awakened  within  him,  and  he  felt  that  a  new  life  lay 
before  him,  much  better  worth  living  than  the  old 
life. 

These  thoughts  occupied  him  as  he  rode  up  Broad- 
way. 

At  length  he  left  the  omnibus,  and  took  the  short- 
est route  to  his  sister's  house.  When  he  ascended 
the  steps,  and  rang  the  bell,  he  felt  rather  a  queer 
sensation  come  over  him.  He  remembered  very  well 
the  last  time  he  had  ascended  those  same  steps, 
carrying  his  cousin's  valise.  His  heart  beat  quick 
with  excitement,  in  the  midst  of  which  the  door  wag 
opened  by  the  set  rant. 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  279 

He  had  already  decided  to  ask  for  his  cousin,  pre- 
ferring to  make  himself  known  to  him  first. 

"Is  Charles  Marston  in?"  he  inquired. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  servant.  "  Won't  you  come 
in?" 

She  threw  open  the  door  of  the  parlor,  and  Ben, 
entering,  seated  himself  in  an  arm-chair,  holding  hit 
hat  in  his  hand. 

44 1  wonder  if  she'd  asked  me  in  here  if  I'd  come  in 
my  rags?  "  he  asked  himself,  with  a  smile. 

The  servant  went  upstairs,  where  she  found  Charles 
in  his  own  room,  writing  a  French  exercise. 

"  Master  Charles,"  she  said,  "  one  of  your  school- 
mates is  in  the  parlor.  He  wants  to  see  you." 

"  All  right.     I'll  go  right  down." 

The  mistake  was  quite  a  natural  one,  as  boys  who 
attended  the  same  private  school  frequently  called  for 
Charles. 

Charles  went  downstairs,  and  entered  the  parlor. 
Ben  rose  as  he  entered. 

"How  are  you,  Charlie?"  said  Ben,  rising,  and 
offering  his  hand. 

Charles  looked  in  his  face  with  a  puzzled  expre* 


280  BEN,    THE   LUGGAGE  BOY;   OR, 

eion.  It  was  not  one  of  his  school-mates,  as  he  had 
supposed ;  but  it  must  be  some  one  that  knew  him 
intimately,  or  he  would  not  have  addressed  him  so 
familiarly. 

"  I  ought  to  know  you,"  he  said,  apologetically ; 
"  but  I  can't  think  who  it  is." 

"Don't  you  remember  your  Cousin  Ben,  Charlie?** 
asked  our  hero. 

"  Ben ! "  exclaimed  Charles,  in  the  greatest  aston- 
ishment. He  looked  eagerly  in  our  hero's  face  for  a 
moment,  then  impulsively  threw  his  arms  around 
Ben's  neck,  and  kissed  him. 

"  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you,  Ben,"  he  said.  "  Where 
have  you  been  all  the  time  ?  " 

"Then  you  didn't  forget  me,  Charlie?"  said  Ben, 
returning  the  embrace. 

"  No,  Ben.  I've  thought  of  you  many  and  many 
a  time.  We  used  to  be  such  good  friends,  you 
know.  We  will  be  again,  —  will  we  not?" 

"I  hope  so,  Charlie.  That  was  one  of  my  re* 
sons  for  coming  back." 

"How  did  you  know  I  was  here?" 


AMONG   THE    WHARVES.  28l 

"  I  will  tell  you  some  time,  Charlie  ;  but  not  now. 
Is  my  sister  at  home?  " 

"Yes.  I  will  call  her.  She  will  be  very  much 
surprised.  We  all  thought  you  — " 

u  Dead,  I  suppose." 

"  Yes ;  but  I  always  hoped  you  would  come  back 
again." 

"  Don't  tell  Mary  who  it  is.  See  if  she  recognize! 
me." 

Summoned  by  Charles,  Mrs.  Abercrombie  came 
down  to  the  parlor.  She  was  merely  told  that  a  gen- 
tleman desired  to  see  her. 

When  she  entered  the  parlor,  Ben  rose  from  his 
seat. 

She  looked  at  him  for  a  moment,  and  her  face 
lighted  up. 

"It's  Ben,"  she  said.  UO  Ben,  how  could  you 
«tay  away  so  long?" 

"  What,  do  you  remember  me,  Mary  ? "  asked  our 
hero,  in  surprise. 

"Yes.  I  knew  you  by  your  resemblance  to 
Charles.  We  always  remarked  it  when  you  wert 
young  boys  together." 


f82  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE  EOT;   OJT, 

As  the  two  boys  were  standing  side  by  side,  the 
resemblance  of  which  she  spoke  was  quite  striking. 
Ben  was  the  larger  of  the  two ;  but  their  features 
were  similar,  as  well  as  the  color  of  the  hair  and 
eyes,  and  the  similarity  of  their  dress  completed  the 
illusion.  Mrs.  Abercrombie  surveyed  her  brother 
with  satisfaction.  She  had  been  afraid  he  would  be 
coarse  and  vulgar  after  so  many  years  of  neglect,  if 
he  should  ever  return ;  but  here  he  was,  to  all  appear- 
ance, a  young  gentleman  of  whom  she  need  not  feel 
ashamed. 

"Ben  must  share  my  room,  Cousin  Mary,"  said 
Charles.  "We've  got  so  much  to  say  to  each 
other." 

"  I  didn't  know  I  was  to  stay,"  said  Ben,  smiling. 

"  You  mustn't  leave  us  again,  Ben,"  said  his  sister 
"Monday  you  must  start  for  home.  Poor  mother 
has  mourned  for  you  so  long.  She  will  be  overjoyed 
to  see  you  again." 

When  Mr.  Abercrombie  came  home,  his  new 
brother-in-law  was  introduced  to  him.  He  received 
Ben  cor4ially,  and  in  a  way  to  make  him  feel  at 


AMONG   THE    WHARVES.  283 

home.  In  the  course  ot  the  morning  Mr.  Sampson 
called,  and  Ben  was  introduced  to  him. 

"  There's  something  in  your  brother's  voice  that 
aounds  familiar,"  he  said  to  Mrs.  Abercrombie.  "  1 
*ihink  I  must  have  met  him  before." 

"  He  has  not  been  with  us  for  some  years,"  said 
Mrs.  Abercrombie,  who  did  not  care  to  reveal  that 
Ben  was  a  returned  prodigal. 

"  Probably  I  am  deceived,"  said  Mr.  Sampson. 

Bea,  however,  knew  that  Mr.  Sampson  had  good 
cause  to  remember  him.  He  was  afraid  the  servant 
who  bad  brought  him  his  breakfast  some  months 
before  in  the  basement  might  remember  him;  but 
there  was  no  danger  of  that.  She  never  dreamed  of 
associating  the  young  gentleman,  her  mistress's 
brother,  with  the  ragged  and  dirty  boy  who  had 
brought  the  valise  for  Master  Charles. 


284  BEN*    THE  LUGGAGE  BOY ;    OA, 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 


ON  Sunday  evening,  Ben,  in  company  with  his 
ftister.  her  husband,  and  Charles,  attended  a  sacred 
concert  in  Steinway  Hall.  As  he  stepped  within  the 
vestibule,  he  saw  two  street  boys  outside,  whom  he 
knew  well.  Their  attire  was  very  similar  to  that 
which  he  had  himself  worn  until  the  day  before. 
They  looked  at  Ben,  but  never  thought  of  identifying 
him  with  the  baggage-smasher  with  whom  they  had 
often  bunked  together. 

"  See  what  it  is,"  thought  Ben,  "  to  be  well  dressed 
and  have  fashionable  friends." 

As  he  sat  in  a  reserved  seat  but  a  little  distance 
from  the  platform,  surrounded  by  well-dressed  people, 
he  was  sometimes  tempted  to  doubt  whether  he  was 
the  same  boy  who  a  few  days  before  was  wandering 
about  the  streets,  a  friendless  outcast.  The  change 
was  so  complete  and  wonderful  that  he  seemed  to 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  283 

himself  a  ne*v  boy.  But  he  enjoyed  the  change.  14 
seemed  a  good  deal  pleasanter  resting  in  the  luxuri 
ous  bedchamber,  which  he  shared  with  Charles  at  his 
sister's  house,  than  the  chance  accommodations  to 
which  he  had  been  accustomed. 

On  Monday  he  started  for  Philadelphia,  on  hit 
journey  home. 

We  will  precede  him. 

Mrs.  Brandon  sat  in  an  arm-chair  before  the  flre, 
knitting.  She  was  not  old,  but  care  and  sorrow  had 
threaded  her  dark  hair  with  silver,  and  on  her  brow 
there  were  traces  of  a  sorrow  patiently  borne,  but 
none  the  less  deeply  felt.  She  had  never  recovered 
from  the  loss  of  her  son.  Her  daughter  Mary  had 
inherited  something  of  her  father's  self-contained, 
undemonstrative  manner ;  but  Ben  had  been  impulsive 
and  affectionate,  and  had  always  been  very  near 
his  mother's  heart.  To  feel  that  he  had  passed  from 
her  sight  was  a  great  sorrow ;  but  it  was  a  greater 
still  not  to  know  where  he  was.  He  might  be  suffer- 
ing pain  or  privation ;  he  might  have  fallen  into 
bad  and  vicious  habits  for  aught  she  knew.  It  would 
have  been  a  relief,  though  a  sad  one,  to  know  that  he 


286  BEN,    THE  LUGGAGE  BOY;   Oft, 

was  dead.  But  nothing  whatever  had  been  heard  of 
him  since  the  letter  of  which  the  reader  is  already 
aware. 

Since  Mary's  marriage  Mrs.  Brandon  nad  been 
very  much  alone.  Her  husband  was  so  taciturn  and 
reserved  that  he  was  not  much  company  for  her ;  so 
she  was  left  very  much  to  her  own  thoughts,  and 
these  dwelt  often  upon  Ben,  though  six  years  had 
elapsed  since  he  left  home. 

MIf  I  could  see  him  once  more,"  she  often  said 
to  herself,  "  I  could  die  in  peace." 

So  Mrs.  Brandon  was  busily  thinking  of  Ben  on 
that  Monday  afternoon,  as  she  sat  knitting  before  the 
fire ;  little  thinking  that  God  had  heard  her  prayer, 
and  that  the  son  whom  she  so  longed  to  see  was  close 
at  hand.  He  was  even  then  coming  up  the  gravelled 
walk  that  led  to  the  house. 

It  may  be  imagined  that  Ben's  heart  beat  with 
unwonted  excitement,  as  the  scenes  of  his  early  boy- 
hood once  more  appeared  before  him.  A  thousand 
boyish  memories  returned  to  him,  as  he  trod  the 
familial  street.  He  met  persons  whom  he  knew,  but 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  28? 

they  showed  no  recognition  of  him.     Six  years  had 
wrought  too  great  a  change  in  him. 

He  rang  the  bell. 

The  summons  was  answered  by  the  servant,  the 
only  one  employed  in  Mrs.  Brandon's  modest  estab- 
lishment. 

"  Is  Mrs.  Brandon  at  home  ?  "  asked  Ben. 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  girl.     "  Will  you  walk  in  ?  " 

Ben  stepped  into  the  entry,  and  the  girl  opened  the 
door  of  the  room  in  which  Mrs.  Brandon  was  seated. 

Mrs.  Brandon  looked  up. 

She  saw  standing  at  the  door  a  well-grown  lad 
of  sixteen,  with  a  face  browned  by  long  exposure 
to  the  sun  and  air.  It  was  six  years  since  she 
had  seen  Ben  ;  but  in  spite  of  the  changes  which  time 
may  have  wrought,  a  mother's  heart  is  Tiot  easily 
deceived.  A  wild  hope  sprang  up  in  her  heart, 
She  tried  to  rise  from  her  chair,  but  hei  excite 
was  so  great  that  her  limbs  refused  their  office. 

"  Mother !  "  exclaimed  Ben,  and,  hurrying  forward^ 
be  threw  his  arms  around  his  mother's  neck. 

"  God  be  thanked  ! "  she  exclaimed,  with  heartfelt 
gratitude.  "  I  have  missed  you  so  much,  Ben." 


188  BXN)    THE  LUGGAGE  BOY; 


Ben's  heart  reproached  him  as  he  saw  the  traces 
of  sorrow  upon  his  mother's  face,  and  felt  that  he  had 
been  the  cause. 

44  Forgive  me,  mother  !  "  he  said. 

"It  is  all  forgotten  now.  I  am  so  happy  1  "  she 
answered,  her  eyes  filled  with  joyful  tears. 

They  sat  down  together,  and  Ben  began  to  tell  his 
story.  In  the  midst  of  it  his  father  entered.  He 
stopped  short  when  he  saw  Ben  sitting  beside  hit 
mother. 

"  It  is  Ben  come  back,"  said  his  mother,  joyfully. 

Mr.  Brandon  did  not  fall  on  his  son's  neck  and  kisa 
him.  That  was  not  his  way.  He  held  out  his  hand, 
and  said,  "  Benjamin,  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you." 

In  the  evening  they  talked  together  over  the  new 
plans  which  Ben's  return  suggested. 

44  You  must  stay  with  us,  Ben,"  said  his  mother. 
44  1  cannot  part  with  you  now." 

44  1  am  getting  old,  Benjamin,"  said  his  father.  "  I 
need  help  in  my  business.  You  must  stay  and 
help  me,  and  by  and  by  you  shall  have  the  whole 
charge  of  it." 

44  1  am  afraid  I  don't  know  enough,"  said  Ben.   w  I 


AMONG    THE    WHARVES.  28» 

haven't  studied  any  since  I  left  home,  i  don't  know 
RS  much  as  I  did  when  I  was  ten." 

"  You  shall  study  at  home  for  a  year,"  said  his 
father.  "  The  teacher  of  the  academy  shall  give 
you  private  lessons.  You  can  learn  a  great  deal  in  a 
year  if  you  set  about  it." 

To  this  arrangement  Ben  acceded.  He  is  no* 
studying  at  home,  and  his  abilities  being  excellent, 
and  his  ambition  excited,  is  making  remarkabh 
progress.  Next  year  he  will  assist  his  father.  Mr4 
Brandon  seeuis  to  have  changed  greatly.  He  13 
no  longer  stern  and  hard,  but  gentle  and  forbearing, 
and  is  evidently  proud  of  Ben,  who  would  run  a 
chance  of  being  spoiled  by  over-indulgence,  if  Mr 
hard  discipline  as  a  street  boy  had  not  given  him 
a  manliness  and  self-reliance  above  his  years.  He  ia 
gradually  laying  aside  the  injurious  habits  which 
he  acquired  in  his  street  life,  and  I  confidently  hop^ 
for  him  a  worthy  and  useful  manhood. 

From  time  to  time  Ben  visits  Xew  York,  and1 
renews  his  intimacy  with  his  Cousin  Charles,  who 
returns  his  warm  affection.  Charles,  in  turn,  spends 
19 


490  BJ5UV,    THE   LUGO  AGE    BOY. 

the  summer   at  Cedarville,  where   they    ar3    insep- 
arable. 

So  we  bid  farewell  to  Ben,  the  Luggage  Boy, 
hoping  that  he  may  be  able  to  repay  his  mother 
in  part  for  the  sorrow  which  his  long  absence 
occasioned  her,  and  that  she  may  live  long  to 
enjoy  his  society.  To  my  young  readers,  who  have 
received  my  stories  of  street  life  with  so  much  indul 
gence,  I  bid  a  brief  farewell,  hoping  to  present  them 
ere  long  the  sixth  volume  of  the  Ragged  Dick  Serio% 
under  the  title  of 

RUFUS  AND  ROSE; 

OR, 
THE   FORTUNES   OF   ROUGH  AND   RKADT. 


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Across  Texas.    By  Edward  S.  Ellis. 

Adventures  in  Canada;  or,  Life  in  the  Woods.    By  John 

C.  Geikie. 

Alison's  Adventures.    By  Lucy  C.  Lillie. 
American    Family   Robinson,  The;    or,  The   Adventures 

of  a  Family  Lost  in  the  Great  Desert  of  the  West. 

By  W.  D.  Belisle. 
Bear  Hunters  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  The.     By  Anne 

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Ben's   Nugget;   or,  A  Boy'?  Search  for  a  Fortune.    By 

Horatio  Alger,  Jr. 
Bob  Burton;   or,  the  Young  Ranchman  of  the  Missouri. 

By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr. 
Bonnie    Prince   Charlie;    A  Tale   of   Fontenoy  and  Cul- 

loden.    By  G.  A.  Henty. 
Brave  Billy.    By  Edward  S.  Ellis. 
Brave  Tom;   or,  The  Battle  that  Won.     By  Edward  S. 

Ellis. 
By  England's  Aid;   or?  The  Freeing  of  the  Netherlands 

(1585-1604).    By  C.  A.  Henty. 
By  Pike  and    Dyke;    A  Tale  of  the   Rise  of  the   Dutch 

Republic.     By  G.  A.  Kenty. 
By  Right  of  Conquest;  or,  With  Cortez  in  Mexico.    By 

G.  A.  Henty. 

By  Love's  Sweet  Rule.    By  Gabrielle  Emelie  Jackson. 
Cabin    in   the   Clearing,  The.    A  Tale  of  the  Frontier. 

Bv  Edward  S.  Ellis. 

Camping  Out,  As  Recorded  by  "Kit."  By  C.  A.  Stephens. 
Camp  in  the  Foothills,  The.    By  Harry  Castlemon. 


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Cornet  of  Horse,  The.    A  Tale  of  Marlborough's  Wars. 

By  G.  A.  Henty. 

Cruise  of  the  Firefly.     By  Edward  S.  Ellis. 
Dear   Days,   A   Story   of   Washington    School    Life.     By 

Ada  Mickle. 
Diccon  the   Bold.     A  Story  of  the  Days  of  Columbus. 

By  John  Russell  Coryell. 
Do  and  Dare;  or,  A  Brave  Boy's  Fight  for  Fortune.    By 

Horatio  Alger,  Jr. 
Dog  Crusoe,  The.    A  Tale  of  the  Western  Prairies.    By 

R.  M.  Ballantyne. 

Dog  of  Cotopaxi,  The.    By  Hezekiah  Butterworth. 
Doris  and  Theodora.    By  Margaret  Vandegrift. 
Dr.  Gilbert's   Daughters.     By  Margaret  H.  Matthews. 
Dragon   and   the    Raven,   The;    or,   The    Days   of   King 

Alfred.    By  G.  A.  Henty. 
Elam    Storm,   the   Wolfer;    or,   The    Lost    Nugget.     By, 

Harry  Castlemon. 

Elinor  Belden;  or,  The  Step  Brothers.  By  Lucy  C.  Lillie. 
Esther's  Fortune.    By  Lucy  C.  Lillie. 
Floating  Treasure.     By  Harry  Castlemon. 
Four  Little  Indians.    By  Ella  Mary  Coates. 
Family  Dilemma.     By  Lucy  C.  Lillie. 
Floating  Light  of  the  Goodwin  Sands,  The.     By  R.  M. 

Ballantyne. 

For  Honor's  Sake.    By  Lucy  C.  Lillie. 
Four  Boys;  or,  The  Story  of  the  Forest  Fire.    By  Edv 

ward  S.  Ellis. 
Fox     Hunting,     As     Recorded     by   "Raed."      By   C.   A. 

Stephens. 

Freaks  on  the  Fells.    By  R.  M.  Ballantyne. 
Gascoyne,  the  San  da  I  wood  Trader.  By  R.  M.  Ballantyne^ 
Girl's  Ordeal,  A.    By  Lucy  C.  Lillie. 
Gorilla  Hunters,  The.    By  R.  M.  Ballantyne. 
Great  Cattle  Trail,  The.    By  Edward  S.  Ellis. 
Hunt  on  Snow  Shoes,  A.    By  Edward  S.  Ellis. 
Hartwell  Farm,  The.    By  Elizabeth  B.  Comins. 
Hector's  Inheritance;   or,  The  Boys  of  Smith   Institute. 

By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr. 


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Helen    Glenn;    or,    My    Mother's    Enemy.     By   Lucy   C. 

Lillie. 
Helping    Himself;    or,   Grant   Thornton's   Ambition.    By 

Horatio  Alger,  Jr. 
Honest  Ned.    By  Edward  S.  Ellis. 
Haunted  Mine,  The.     By  Harry  Castlemon. 
In   Freedom's  Cause.     A  Story  of  Wallace  and  Bruce. 

By  G.  A.  Henty. 

In   the    Reign    of   Terror;    The   Adventures   of  a   West- 
minster Boy.    By  G.  A.  Henty. 
Jack  Midwood;    or,   Bread   Cast  Upon  the  Waters.     By 

Edward  S.  Ellis. 
Joe   Wayring   at    Home;    or,  The   Adventures   of  a   Fly 

Rod.    By  Harry  Castlemon. 
Kangaroo    Hunters,  The;    or,  Adventures   in  the    Bush. 

By  Anne  Bowman. 

King's  Rubies,  The.  By  Adelaide  Fulaer  Bell. 
Lady  Green  Satin.  By  Baroness  Deschesnez. 
Left  on  Labrador;  or,  The  Cruise  of  the  Yacht  "Curlew." 

By  C.  A.  Stephens. 

Lena  Wingo,  the  Mohawk.    By  Edward  S.  Ellis. 
Lenny,  the  Orphan.   By  Margaret  Hosmer. 
Lion  of  the  North.  The.     A  Tale  of  the  Times  of  Gus- 

tavus  Adolphus.    By  G.  A.  Henty. 
Luke  Walton;   or,  The  Chicago  Newsboy.     By  Horatio 

Alger,  Jr. 

Lynx  Hunting.    By  C.  A.  Stephens. 
Limber  Lew,  the  Circus  King.    By  Edward  S.  Ellis. 
Marion  Berkley.    By  Elizabeth  B.  Comins. 
Missing  Pocket-Book,  The.    By  Harry  Castlemon. 
Mysterious  Andes,  The.     By  Hezekiah  Butterworth. 
Northern    Lights.     Stories   from   Swedish   and   Finnish 

Authors. 
Off  to  the  Geysers;  or,  The  Young  Yachters  in  Iceland. 

By  C.  A.  Stephens. 
On  the  Amazon;   or,  The  Cruise  of  the  "Rambler."    By 

C.  A.  Stephens. 

On  the  Trail  of  the  Moose.    By  Edward  S.  Ellis. 
Orange  and  Green;  A  Tale  of  the  Boyne  and  Limerick. 

By  G.  A.  Henty. 


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Price,  per  volume,  $0.75 

Oscar  In  Africa.    By  Harry  Castlemon. 

Our  Boys  in  Panama.    By  Hezekiah  Butterworth. 

Our  Fellows;  or,  Skirmishes  with  the  Swamp  Dragoons. 

By  Harry  Castlemon. 

Path  in  the  Ravine,  The.    By  Edward  S.  Ellis. 
Plucky  Dick;   or,  Sowing  and  Reaping.     By  Edward  S. 

Ellis. 

Queen's  Body  Guard,  The.     By  Margaret  Vandegrift. 
Question  of  Honor.    By  Lynde  Palmer. 
Righting  the  Wrong.     By  Edward  S.  Ellis. 
River  Fugitivest  The.    By  Edward  S.  Ellis. 
Remain    Kalbris.     His  Adventures   by  Sea  and   Shore. 

Translated  from  the  French  of  Hector  Malot. 
Rose  Raymond's  Wards.    By  Margaret  Vandegrift. 
Ruth  Endicott's  Way.    By  Lucy  C.  Lillie. 
Shifting  Winds;   A  Story  of  the  Sea.     By  R.  M.  Bal- 

lantyne. 
Snagged   and   Sunk;    or,  The  Adventures  of  a  Canvas 

Canoe.    By  Harry  Castlemon. 
Squire's  Daughter,  The.    By  Lucy  C.  Lillie. 
Steel    Horse,  The;   or,  The  Rambles  of  a  Bicycle.     By 

Harry  Castlemon. 
Store  Boy,  The;  or,  The  Fortunes  of  Ben  Barclay.    By 

Horatio  Alger,  Jr. 

Storm  Mountain.    By  Edward  S.  Ellis. 
Struggling  Upward;  or,  Luke  Larkin's  Luck.  By  Horatio 

Alger,  Jr. 

Tarn;  or,  Holding  the  Fort.    By  Edward  S.  Ellis. 
Through  Forest  and  Fire.    By  Edward  S.  Ellis. 
True  to  the  Old  Flag;  A  Tale  of  the  American  War  of 

Independence.    By  G.  A.  Henty. 
Two  Bequests,  The;  or,  Heavenward  Led.    By  Jane  R. 

Sommers. 

Two  Ways  of  Becoming  a  Hunter.  By  Harry  Castlemon. 
Under  Drake's  Flag.    A  Tale  of  the  Spanish  Main.    By 

G.  A.  Henty. 

Under  the  Holly.    By  Margaret  Hosmer. 
Under  the  Red  Flag;  or,  The  Adventures  of  Two  Amer- 
ican Boys  in  the  Days  of  the  Commune.  By  Edward 

King. 


ROUNDABOUT  LIBRARY  (Continued) 
Price,  per  volume,  $0.75 

Ways  and  Means.    By  Margaret  Vandegrift. 

Where  Honor  Leads.    By  Lynde  Palmer. 

Wilderness  Fugitives,  The.     By  Edward  S.  Ellis. 

Wild  Man  of  the  West,  The.    By  R.  M.  Ballantyne. 

With  Clive  in  India;  or,  The  Beginning  of  an  Empire. 
By  G.  A.  Henty. 

With  Wolfe  in  Canada;  or,  The  Winning  of  a  Continent. 
By  G.  A.  Henty. 

Wyoming.    By  Edward  S.  Ellis. 

Young  Adventurer,  The;  Tom's  Trip  Across  the  Plains. 
By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr. 

Young  Circus  Rider,  The.    By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr. 

Young  Conductor,  The;  or,  Winning  His  V/ay.  By  Ed- 
ward S.  Ellis. 

Young  Explorer,  The;  or,  Among  the  Sierras.  By  Ho- 
ratio Alger,  Jr. 

Young  Miner,  The;  or,  Tom  Nelson  in  California.  By 
Horatio  Alger,  Jr. 

Young  Ranchers,  The;  or,  Fighting  the  Sioux.  By 
Edward  S.  Ellis. 

Young  Wrecker,  The.    By  Richard  Meade  Bache. 


THE  JOHN  C.   WINSTON   CO.'g~?OPUtX^  JUVENIUS. 

HARRY  CASTLEMON. 

HOW  I  CAME  TO  WRITE  MY  FIRST  BOOK. 


I  was  sixteen  years  old  I  belonged  to  a  composi- 
tion class.  It  was  our  custom  to  go  on  the  recitation  seat 
every  day  with  clean  slates,  and  we  were  allowed  ten  min- 
utes to  write  seventy  words  on  any  subject  the  teacher 
thought  suited  to  our  capacity.  One  day  he  gave  out  "What 
a  Man  Would  See  if  He  Went  to  Greenland."  My  heart  was 
in  the  matter,  and  before  the  ten  minutes  were  up  I  had  one 
side  of  my  slate  filled.  The  teacher  listened  to  the  reading 
of  our  compositions,  and  when  they  were  all  over  he  simply 
said:  "Some  of  you  will  make  your  living  by  writing  one 
of  these  days."  That  gave  me  something  to  ponder  upon. 
I  did  not  say  *so  out  loud,  but  I  knew  that  my  composition 
was  as  good  as  the  best  of  them.  By  the  way,  there  was 
another  thing  that  came  in  my  way  just  then.  I  was  read- 
ing at  that  time  one  of  Mayne  Reid's  works  which  I  had 
drawn  from  the  library,  and  I  pondered  upon  it  as  much  as 
I  did  upon  what  the  teacher  said  to  me.  In  introducing 
Swartboy  to  his  readers  he  made  use  of  this  expression  : 
"No  visible  change  was  observable  in  Swartboy  's  counte- 
nance. '  '  Now,  it  occurred  to  me  that  if  a  man  of  his  educa- 
tion could  make  such  a  blunder  as  that  and  still  write  a 
book,  I  ought  to  be  able  to  do  it,  too.  I  went  home  that  very 
day  and  began  a  story,  "The  Old  Guide's  Narrative,"  which 
was  sent  to  the  New  York  Weekly  ',  and  came  back,  respect- 
tully  declined.  It  was  written  on  both  sides  of  the  sheets 
but  I  didn't  know  that  this  was  against  the  rules.  Nothing 
abashed,  I  began  another,  and  receiving  some  instruction, 
from  a  friend  of  mine  who  was  a  clerk  in  a  book  store,  I 
wrote  it  on  only  one  side  of  the  paper.  But  mind  you,  he 
didn't  know  what  I  was  doing.  Nobody  knew  it  ;  bat  one 


THE  JOHN  C.  WINSTON  CO/S   POPUtAl 

day,  after  a  hard  Saturday's  work — the  other  boys  had  been, 
out  skating  on  the  brick-pond — I  shyly  broached  the  subject 
to  my  mother.  I  felt  the  need  of  some  sympathy.  She 
listened  in  amazement,  and  then  said  :  "Why,  do  you  think 
you  could  write  a  book  like  that  ?' '  That  settled  the  matter, 
and  from  that  day  no  one  knew  what  I  was  up  to  until  I  sent 
the  first  four  volumes  of  Gunboat  Series  to  my  father.  Was 
it  work  ?  Well,  yes ;  it  was  hard  work,  but  each  week  I  had 
the  satisfaction  of  seeing  the  manuscript  grow  until  the 
"Young  Naturalist"  was  all  complete. 

—Harry  Castlemon  in  the  Writer. 


GUNBOAT  SERIES* 

6  vols.  BY  HARRY  CASTXEMON.  $6.00- 

I>rank  the  Young  Naturalist.      Frank  before  Vicksburg. 
Frank  on  a  Gunboat.  Frank  on  the  Lower  Mississippi. 

Frank  in  the  Woods.  Frank  on  the  Prairie. 

ROCKY  MOUNTAIN  SERIES. 

3  vols.  BY  HARRY  CASTI,BMON.  $3.00 

Frank  Among  the  Rancheros.     Frank  in  the  Mountains, 
Frank  at  Don  Carlos'  Rancho. 

SPORTSMAN'S  CLUB  SERIES. 

3  vols.  BY  HARRY  CASTI,EMON.  $3.75 

The  Sportsman's  Club  in  the  Saddle.    The  Sportsman's  Club 
The  Sportsman's  Club  Afloat.  Among  the  TrappersJ] 

FRANK  NELSON  SERIES. 

3  vols.  BY  HARRY  CASTLEMON.  13-75 

Snowed  up.         Frank  in  the  Forecastle.    The  Boy  Traders. 

COMPLETE  CATALOG  OF  BEST    BOOKS    FOR    BOYS    AND    GIRLS 
MAILED    ON    APPLICATION    TO   THE   PUBLISHERS 

THE  JOHN  C.  WINSTON  CO.,  PHILADELPHIA 


THE  JOHN  C.  WINSTON  CO/5  POPULAR 

ROUGHING  IT  SERIES. 

3  rob.  BY  HARRY  CASTI,BMON.  $3.00 

George  in  Camp.  George  at  the  Fort 

George  at  the  Wheel. 

ROD  AND  GUN  SERIES. 

3  vols.  BY  HARRY  CASTLBMON.  $3-oo 

Don  Gordon's  Shooting  Box.     The  Young  Wild  Fowlers. 

Rod  and  Gun  Club. 

GO-AHEAD  SERIES. 

3  vols.  BY  HARRY  CASTI,BMON.  $3.00 

Tom  Newcombe.  Go-Ahead.  No  Moss. 

WAR  SERIES. 

6  vols.  BY  HARRY  CASIXBMON.  |6.oo 

True  to  His  Colors.  Marcy  the  Blockade-Runner. 

Rodney  the  Partisan.  Marcy  the  Refugee. 

Rodney  the  Overseer.  Sailor  Jack  the  Trader. 

HOUSEBOAT  SERIES. 

3  vols.  BY  HARRY  CASTXBMON.  $3.00 

The  Houseboat  Boys.        The  Mystery  of  Lost  River  Canon. 
The  Young  Game  Warden. 

AFLOAT  AND  ASHORE  SERIES. 

3  vols.  BY  HARRY  CASTI,BMON.  $3-<*o 

Rebellion  in  Dixie.  A  Sailor  in  Spite  of  Himself. 

The  Ten-Ton  Cutter. 


COMPLETE  CATALOG  OF  BEST    BOOKS    FOR    BOYS    AND   ulRUS 
MAILED   ON    APPLICATION    TO   THE   PUBLISHERS 

THE  JOHN  C.  WINSTON  CO.,  PHILADELPHIA 


HORATIO  ALGER,  JR. 


The  enormous  sales  of  the  books  of  Horatio  Algery 
Jr.,  show  the  greatness  of  his  popularity  among  the 
boys,  and  prove  that  he  is  one  of  their  most  favored 
writers.  I  am  told  that  more  than  half  a  million  copies 
altogether  have  been  sold,  and  that  ail  the  large  circu- 
lating libraries  in  the  country  have  several  complete 
Bets,  of  which  only  two  or  three  volumes  are  ever 
on  the  shelves  at  one  time.  If  this  is  true,  what  thou- 
sands and  thousands  of  boys  have  read  and  are  reading 
Mr.  Alger's  books!  His  peculiar  style  of  stories,  often 
imitated  but  never  equaled,  have  taken  a  hold  upon  tha 
young  people,  and,  despite  their  similarity,  are  eagerly 
read  as  soon  as  they  appear. 

Mr.  Alger  became  famous  with  the  publication  of 
that  undying  book,  "Ragged  Dick,  or  Street  Life  in  New 
York."  It  was  his  first  bock  for  young  people,  and  its 
success  was  so  great  that  he  immediately  devoted  him- 
self to  that  kind  of  writing.  It  was  a  new  and  fertile 
field  for  a  writer  then,  and  Mr.  Alger's  treatment  of  it 
at  once  caught  the  fancy  of  the  boys.  "Ragged  Dick" 
first  appeared  in  1868,  and  ever  since  then  it  has  been 
selling  steadily,  until  now  it  is  estimated  that  about 
200,000  copies  of  the  series  have  been  sold. 

— "Pleasant  Hours  for  Boys  and  Girls." 


A  writer  for  boys  should  have  an  abundant  sym- 
pathy with  them.  He  should  be  able  to  enter  into  their 
plans,  hopes,  and  aspirations.  He  should  learn  to  look 
upon  life  as  they  do.  Boys  oblect  to  be  written  down  to. 
A  boy's  heart  opens  to  the  man  or  writer  who  under- 
stands him. 
•—From  "Writing,  Stories  for  Boys,"  by  Horatio  Alger,  Jr. 


RAGGED  DICK  SERIES. 

6  vols.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  $6.00 

Ragged  Dick.  Rough  and  Ready. 

Fame  and  Fortune.  Ben  the  Luggage  Boy. 

Mark  the  Match  Boy.  Rufus  and  Rose. 

TATTERED  TOM  SERIES— First   Series. 
4  vols.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  $4.00 

Tattered  Tom.  Phil  the  Fiddler. 

Paul  the  Peddler.  Slow  and  Sure. 

TATTERED  TOM  SERIES— Second  Series. 
4  vols.  $4.00 

Julius.  Sam's  Chance. 

The  Young  Outlaw.  The  Telegraph  Boy. 

CAMPAIGN  SERIES. 

3  vols.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  $3.00 
Frank's  Campaign.                 Charlie  Codman's  Cruise. 

Paul  Prescott's  Charge. 

LUCK  AND  PLUCK  SERIES— First  Series. 
•i  vols.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  $4.00 

Luck  and  Pluck.  Strong  and  Steady. 

Sink  or  Swim.  Strive  and  Succeed. 

LUCK  AND  PLUCK  SERIES— Second  Series. 

4  vols.  $4.00 
Try  and  Trust.  Risen  from  the  Ranks. 
Bound  to  Rise.  Herbert  Carter's  Legacy. 

BRAVE  AND  BOLD  SERIES. 

4  vols.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  $4.00 

Brave  and  Bold.  Shifting  for  Himself. 

Jack's  Ward.  Wait  and  Hope. 

•COMPLETE  CATALOG  OF  BEST    BOOKS    FOR    BOYS    AND    GIRLS 
MAILED    ON    APPLICATION    TO   THE    PUBLISHERS 

THE  JOHN  C.  WINSTON  CO..  PHILADELPHIA 


VICTORY  SERIES. 

3  Tola.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  $3.0« 

Only  an  Irish  Boy.  Adrift  in  the  City. 

Victor  Vane,  or  the  Young  Secretary. 

FRANK  AND   FEARLESS  SERIES. 
3  vols.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  $3.00 

Frank  Hunter's  Peril.  Frank  and  Fearless. 

The  Young  Salesman. 

GOOD  FORTUNE  LIBRARY. 

3  vols.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  $3.00 

Walter  Sherwood's  Probation.    A  Boy's  Fortune. 
The  Young  Bank  Messenger. 

HOW  TO  RISE  LIBRARY. 

3  vols.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  $3.00 

Jed,  the  Poorhouse  Boy.        Rupert's  Ambition. 
Lester's  Luck. 


COMPLETE  CATALOG  OF  BEST    BOOKS    FOR    BOYS    AMD 
MAILED   ON    APPLICATION    TO   THE   PUBLISHERS 

THE  JOHN  C.  WINSTON  CO.,  PHILADELPHIA 


THE  JOHN   C.   WINSTON   CO/S    POPULAR  JUVENIWJS. 


J.  T.  TROWBRIDGE. 

NEITHER  as  a  writer  does  he  stand  apart  from  the  great 
currents  of  life  and  select  some  exceptional  phase  or  odd 
combination  of  circumstances.  He  stands  on  the  common, 
level  and  appeals  to  the  universal  heart,  and  all  that  he  sug- 
gests or  achieves  is  on  the  plane  and  in  the  line  of  march  of 
the  great  body  of  humanity. 

The  Jack  Hazard  series  of  stories,  published  in  the  late 
Our  Young  Folks,  and  continued  in  the  first  volume  of  St. 
Nicholas,  under  the  title  of  "Fast  Friends,"  is  no  doubt 
destined  to  hold  a  high  place  in  this  class  of  literature.  The 
delight  of  the  boys  in  them  (and  of  their  seniors,  too)  is 
•well  founded.  They  go  to  the  right  spot  every  time.  Trow- 
bridge  knows  the  heart  of  a  boy  like  a  book,  and  the  heart 
of  a  man,  too,  and  he  has  laid  them  both  open  in  these  books 
in  a  most  successful  manner.  Apart  from  the  qualities  that 
render  the  series  so  attractive  to  all  young  readers,  they 
lave  great  value  on  account  of  their  portraitures  of  American 
country  life  and  character.  The  drawing  is  wonderfully 
accurate,  and  as  spirited  as  it  is  true.  The  constable,  Sel- 
lick,  is  an  original  character,  and  as  minor  figures  where  will 
we  find  anything  better  than  Miss  Wansey,  and  Mr.  P.  Pip- 
kin, Esq.  The  picture  of  Mr.  Dink's  school,  too,  is  capital, 
and  where  else  in  fiction  is  there  a  better  nick-name  than 
that  the  boys  gave  to  poor  little  Stephen  Treadwell,  "Step 
Hen,"  as  he  himself  pronounced  his  name  in  an  unfortunate 
moment  when  he  saw  it  in  print  for  the  first  time  in  his  les- 
son in  school. 

On  the  whole,  these  books  are  very  satisfactory,  and 
afford  the  critical  reader  the  rare  pleasure  of  the  works  that 
are  just  adequate,  that  easily  fulfill  themselves  ard  accom- 
plish all  they  set  out  to  do.— Scribiier's  MonJiiy. 


THE  JOHN  C.  WINSTON  CO.'S  POPULAR  JUVENILES. 

JACK  HAZARD  SERIES. 

6  vols.  By  J.  T.  TROWBRIDGE  $7.25 

Tack  Hazard  and  His  Fortunes      Doing  His  Best. 
The  Young  Surveyor.  A  Chance  for  Himself. 

Fast  Friends.  Lawrence's  Adventures. 

CHARLES  ASBURY  STEPHENS. 

"This  author  wrote  his  "Camping  Out  Series"  at  the  very 
height  of  his  mental  and  physical  powers. 

"We  do  not  wonder  at  the  popularity  of  these  books;  there 
Is  a  freshness  and  variety  about  them,  and  an  enthusiasm  in 
the  description  of  sport  and  adventure,  which  even  the  older 
folk  can  hardly  fail  to  share." — Worcester  Spy. 

"The  author  of  the  Camping  Out  Series  is  entitled  to  rank 
as  decidedly  at  the  head  of  what  may  be  called  boys'  litera- 
ture."— Buffalo  Courier. 

CAMPING  OUT  SERIES. 

By  C.  A.  STEPHENS. 

AH  books  in  this  series  are  12 mo.  with  eight  full  page  illustra- 
tions.   Cloth,  extra,  75  cents. 

CAMPING  OUT.     As  Recorded  by  "  Kit." 

"This  book  is  bright,  breezy,  wholesome,  instructive,  and 
stands  above  the  ordinary  boys'  books  of  the  day  by  a  whole 
head  and  shoulders." — The  Christian  Register,  Boston. 

LEFT  ON  LABRADOR;  OR,  THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  SCHOONER  YACHT 

"CURLEW."     As  Recorded  by  ''Wash." 
"The    perils    of    the    voyagers,    the    narrow    escapes,    their 
strange  expedients,  and  the  fun  and  jollity  when  danger  had 
passed,   will   make  boys   even   unconscious   of   hunger." — New 
Bedford  Mercury. 
OFF  TO  THE  GEYSERS;  OR  THE  YOUNG  YACHTERS  IN  ICELAND.    A» 

Recorded  by  "Wade." 

"It  is  difficult  to  believe  that  Wade  and  Read  and  Kit  and 
Wash  were  not  live  boys,  sailng  up  Hudson  Straits,  and 
reigning  temporarily  over  an  Esquimaux  tribe." — The  Inde- 
pendent, New  York. 

LYNJK  HUNTING:  From  Notes  by  the  Author  of  "Camping  Out." 
"Of  first  quality  as  a  boys'  book,  and  fit  to  take  Its  place 
beside  the  best." — Richmond  Enguirer. 
Fox  HUNTING.     As  Recorded  by  "Raed." 

"The  most  spirited  and  entertaining  book  that  has  as  yet 
appeared.     It  overflows     with  incident,  and  is  characterized 
by  dash  and  brilliancy  throughout." — Boston   Gazette. 
ON  THE  AMAZON;  OR,  THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  "RAMBLER."     As 

Recorded  by  "Wash." 

"Gives  vivid  pictures  of  Brazilian  adventure  and  scenery." 
- — Buffalo  Courier. 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 


This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


* 

.-    "'v- 

OCT  2  5  I 

• 

JAI 

. 

4  1993 

;  

REC'D|1fci£'92 

rctf  14  jgg 

31?                     ! 

KtCS.  J/yi/22'83 

»OM  a  *>**'• 

RECEIVED   BY 

Q£JC  |JL1£    • 

riROli  ATinNI    DEPT 

LD21-35m-8,'72 
(Q4189810)476 — A-32 


General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


I 


